Rose Red
by LilPotterfanfic
Summary: "I'm a Grimm, Peter. I can write as many Happy Endings as I want, but that doesn't mean I'll get one."
1. Part 1

**Rose Red**  
 **Part 1**  
 _ **Enchanted**_

 _"And so the adventure begins..."_  
 _~Mark Twain_


	2. The Maiden in Her Ivory Tower

**Rose Red**  
 **Chapter 1: The Fair Maiden in Her Ivory Tower**

The first time Emma meets Rosie Grimm, it's in the tower of Henry's "castle".

Later, looking back on it, she'll think that it's both ironic and cliched, but this is before she knows about magic and realms and Authors and Peter Pan, so for now she's really just wondering who the girl with the messy blond hair is but doesn't really care because that's her son sitting next to her and they need to talk.

Rosie glances up from Henry's despondent face and the book he's holding in his hands when she hears the woman approaching, and even though she's never met her before, she knows instinctually that this must be Emma Swan. It's in the way she strides across the dead field down to the cliff, and in the bright red of her leather jacket.

Rosie jumps down from her seat and shoots Henry a pointed look as Emma rushes toward them. With a grin, Rosie pulls her coat tighter around her, pushes the hair back from her face, and sticks out a hand. "I'm Rosie Grimm," she introduces herself, "Henry's babysitter. You must be his birth-mother. He's told me a lot about you."

Emma just looks at her.

"Right." Rosie nods and gives a tight, closed-lip smile. "I'm just gonna..." She glances back at Henry, who has his eyebrows raised at her. "Right. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Henry."

And she's gone.

* * *

 _ **Once upon a time, in a land far, far away,**_ the tower was dark and cold. Outside her window, forest stretched as far as the eye could see, and if Rapunzel squinted really hard, she could just barely make out the spires of a castle in the distance to the North. She didn't know what was to the South- there were no windows on that side of the tower- but she assumed that's where The Queen's kingdom was.

She had never seen it before. Rapunzel hadn't seen much of anything at all, really. Nothing but the cottage she grew up in with her sisters and the stone walls of this damned tower.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't give anything for a day- _just one day_ \- to see the world.

Sometimes, when she was being beaten, Rapunzel would picture herself strolling down cobblestone streets and inhaling the scent of freshly-baked bread and ripe strawberries. Gods but she missed those smells; almost as much as she missed running barefoot through sunlit fields with Alice at her side and Mary chasing after them, calling for them to come home to Mother and Father and Uncle Heath, even as she smiled and laughed at their antics.

This was one of those times.

Rapunzel resisted the urge to sob as tears leaked from her reddened eyes and the head guard finally stopped whipping her. A whimper poured out as she drew her ripped, bloody, threadbare dress closer to her, wincing as it chafed against the bleeding cuts.

The Queen kneeled down in front of her. Rapunzel felt cold, silk-gloved fingers rest lightly under her chin and lift her gaze to meet The Queen's unfeeling brown eyes. "I'll ask once more," she said, almost kindly. "Give me the Dark Curse."

Rapunzel took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and wheezed out: "No."

The guard smirked cruelly and raised the whip once again. Rapunzel tensed in expectation, but The Queen raised her hand and stopped the cat-of-nine-tails in its tracks. As she paced back and forth across the tower, Rapunzel was reminded of the last person who had done so: Garvan. He had wanted her to escape with him, but she had refused, saying that it was pointless. The Queen would find them no matter where they ran. Now she wished that she had gone with him.

Maybe they really would have escaped. Maybe they would be together right now, exploring the Enchanted Forest hand in hand, with Maximus and Pascal at their side.

Rapunzel was ripped away from her thoughts as The Queen approached her again.

"I wonder, Rapunzel," The Queen mused. "You've always told me that your magic isn't powerful enough for you to do what I ask of you... But you're a Grimm, dear. This should be easy for you. That's what Grimms do after all, isn't it? Create curses? Break them? In fact, if I'm not mistaken, your grandfather was the one who created the curse I'm after right now. Surely you know what I need to make it... So why aren't you telling me?"

When Rapunzel didn't answer quick enough, the guard buried his gauntlet-clad hand in her dirty, ridiculously long braid and jerked her up, forcing her to let out a shriek of pain. "Because I know why you want it!" she gasped out. "You're going to use it to destroy Mist Haven someday, and I won't be responsible for it!"

The Queen smiled cruelly and curled her index finger around the leather chord of Rapunzel's pendant: the last memento her mother had given her before she died. "Won't you?"

She tugged. Just before the chord snapped, Rapunzel cried out, "No!" and the guard released his hold on her at a sign from The Queen and let her crash to the stone floor of the tower.

"The curse, Rapunzel," The Queen repeated impatiently. "I haven't got all day."

Rapunzel hesitated for a moment, hand straying to the golden sun charm around her neck, before she finally nodded and acquiesced. "A lock of hair from the seven darkest hearts in the realm," she began shakily, The Queen staring at her with rapt attention. "The provisions of the spell, written with the blood of the caster. And..."

" _And_?" The Queen growled.

Rapunzel's bitter smile was hidden by her dirty, golden mane of hair. "All magic comes with a price, Your Majesty," she murmured. "The last ingredient of the curse is a heart- a prized heart. The heart of the thing you love most."

* * *

There's this hopeful glint in Henry's eyes as Rosie walks him to school the next morning, and she knows what it's from: Emma. He tells her as much. He's talking about her nonstop, chatting Rosie's ear off as she guides him across the cross walk and onto the front lawn of the only school in town. Uncomfortable uniform and small size aside, Rosie likes it well enough... if it weren't for one small detail-

"Hey! Goldilocks!"

And there he is.

Rosie sighs heavily and stops in her tracks. Henry smiles knowingly as she turns to face Garvan McLeod with a scowl marring her usually-sunny face, watching the tall, lanky boy stride over to them.

"Can I help you, Garvan?" she asks wearily.

He grins at her, cheeks flushed from the exertion of running across the road and the lawn of the school. "Not really- not me, anyway," he explains, fiddling with the loops on his khaki uniform pants. "Naveen Princeton is having this bonfire tomorrow night, and I already know Lottie's going to invite you. Are you going to come?"

He watches as Rosie's green eyes light up at the prospect. For a moment, a smile turns up the corners of her lips and scrunches the tip of her nose, but then she deflates and says reluctantly, "I don't know... I'll have to-"

" _Ask your sister_ , I know," Garvan replies in annoyance. "We all know. She's freakishly possessive of you-"

"Ingrid's just strict," Rosie replies defensively, crossing her arms over her meager chest. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Garvan rolls his eyes. "Have you ever considered just sneaking out?" he asks snidely.

"No! I would never betray her trust like that-"

"Whatever." Garvan is already walking toward the front entrance of the school. "Suit yourself. Spend all your time with a ten-year-old. See if I care."

Rosie's face turns bright red. "Wearing a leather jacket over your uniform goes against school dress code!" she screams at his retreating back.

He turns, still walking backwards, and calls back, "Clara Drosselmyer wears ballet shoes to class every day and no one says anything to _her_ about it!"

If it's possible, her face turns even redder. Rosie scrounges for something to say, and just as he reaches Naveen and Cormac, who are standing next to the steps, she yells, "Just- just shut up!"

Garvan disappears into the school with a laugh.

Rosie lets out an infuriated groan and snatches up Henry's hand again. "God, I hate him!" she fumes.

Henry just smirks. "You two are going to fall in love someday," he predicts.

" _No_ we are not."

"But he's the prince who saved you from your tower!"

Rosie lets out a bitter laugh. "You've had some weird theories before, kid," she tells him, pushing wayward locks of blond hair out of her face. "But that one is the craziest yet. There is no way on this planet that _Garvan McLeod_ is a prince."

* * *

 _ **For the first time,**_ The Queen truly regretted having Rapunzel's tower built so tall. The stairs seemed to twist endlessly above her, and The Queen snarled when she realized that she might not make it in time to stop her prisoner from escaping. But when she threw the door open at the top of the staircase, it was to see Rapunzel and a gangly boy with gingery hair freeze in fear.

"Rapunzel," The Queen hissed, her soldiers crowding around the doorway behind her, "just where do you think you're going?"

"Shit," Rapunzel mumbled.

Garvan looked at her with wide eyes. "P-Punzie," he stammered. "Did you just-?"

Before he could even finish his question, Rapunzel shoved him to the floor, out of the way of a spear that was thrown by one of the guards, and grabbed the rapier he kept hanging from his belt. Swiping one of her quills through the air, Rapunzel erected a barrier of glowing, golden energy between her and The Queen.

"Don't you dare," The Queen warned, raising her hand in warning, but Rapunzel just glared back at her.

"I already did," she spat, and with a sweep of her arm, her long, golden braid was cut off, and fell to the floor.

"I told you, _Regina_ ," Rapunzel continued, planting her hands on her hips and ignoring The Queen's look of fury, "to _never_ underestimate me." And with that, Rapunzel heaved Garvan to his feet and jumped out of the tower window, hands clutching a ladder made of bed sheets.

"Stop them!" The Queen ordered. "Stop them or I will kill you instead!"

But by the time her soldiers reached the ground, Rapunzel and Garvan were already galloping off into the forest on the back of a white steed, far from The Queen's reach.

* * *

The night of Naveen Princeton's bonfire party, it's cold- really cold. Colder than it usually is during October in Story Brooke. Far too cold to be eating ice cream, but that doesn't put a stop to Ingrid and Rosie's long-standing nightly tradition: Ice cream sundaes in front of the fire place, Rosie bundled up in throw blankets and Ingrid braving the cold with a smile.

Tonight is different, though. Rather than happily consume her strawberry desert like usual, Rosie hesitates, pushing her spoon down into the confection until it's a soft, creamy glob. Ingrid watches as her younger sister sighs softly, sets her bowl on the table next to her patterned arm chair, and turns to her with a hopeful smile.

"Ingrid," Rosie breaches carefully, "can I ask you something?"

Ingrid swallows and then smiles. "Anything, Sunshine."

"There's this party tonight," Rosie begins, "and everyone's going to be there... And I was thinking that maybe, just this once, I could-"

"No, Rosie," Ingrid says, kindly but firmly. "You need your rest. It's been a long week, and you know how you get when you don't have enough sleep. Maybe next time."

Rosie nods, but a small voice inside of her says, _That's what you said last time. And the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that, and-_

She shakes her head. "Right," she responds quietly, smiling softly. "You're right... I'm actually- I'm actually going to head up now, I think. Night. Love you."

Ingrid nods and Rosie gets up and kisses her cheek, but as she tramps up the stairs to her bedroom, she knows what she's going to do.

Rosie pulls on her boots, coat, scarf, and hat, unlatches her window and removes the screen. She hesitates when she stares down at the drop: she's on the second story, and there are bushes to catch her fall, but Ingrid might hear her and she really doesn't want to upset her...

But she's never gone to a party before. She's had to turn down every invitation to hang out, go to a movie, go to a dance. Just once she'd like to be a normal teenager, she thinks. Even if it's just for one night.

She'll be like Cinderella, Rosie tells herself, squaring her shoulders, setting her jaw, and tugging the hat farther down on her forehead. To the ball and home again before midnight.

And with that, she jumps.

* * *

 _ **They ran Maximus until he could run no more,**_ until his legs shook beneath the combined weight of Rapunzel and Garvan, (and Pascal curled up under Rapunzel's sleeve) until he worked up a white lather over his sparkling coat and large mouth and teeth. Faithful, strong horse that he was, he didn't stop until he literally couldn't keep going any longer, and gave a warning whinny before collapsing in a copse of trees deep, deep within the forest.

Garvan slid off of his back, panting, and waited for Rapunzel to climb down so he could unsaddle the horse. She hesitated though, and he knew: She wanted to savor the moment.

She liked doing that- savoring things. Like the first time she let him climb up into the tower, and the first time she showed him one of her drawings, and the first time she let him see her scars, and now, the first time she touched the ground in the nine long years she had been imprisoned for.

Finally, she slipped off her threadbare shoes and let her feet nestle in the thick carpet of green, green grass.

A huge smile broke out on Rapunzel's face. "I can't believe we just did that," she whispered in elated awe. "I can't believe we just did that!" she shrieked, grabbing Garvan by his forearms (causing Pascal to fall out of her sleeve with an indignant squeak) and jumping up and down, spinning both of them around in a circle as the sun began its descent in the sky.

Finally they fell on their backs, exhausted from the morning's events and from the strenuous ride.

"Oh!" Garvan cried, forcing himself to his feet. "I nearly forgot. I brought you a change of clothes."

"You didn't have to-" Rapunzel began, but Garvan waved her off, already sorting through his saddlebags. Finally, he emerged with a bundle of lavender fabric, and unfurled a simple day dress for her inspection, accompanied by a faded blue cloak that had probably belonged to him at one point.

"It's not much," he admitted. "Uncle Jasper doesn't keep many women's clothes in the castle. But I remember you saying that purple was your favorite color so I-"

Rapunzel silenced him with a kiss, and both of them immediately pulled away, flushed bright red.

"It's perfect," she finally whispered, voice squeaky, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yeah," Garvan agreed, nodding rapidly. "Perfect."

* * *

"Rosie!" Lottie exclaims loudly once the other girl has entered the clearing, bounding over and immediately enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug. "You came!"

Even though Lottie is squeezing the life out of her, Rosie lets out a laugh before lightly pushing the other blond away from her. "I snuck out," she explains, and wonders if she should feel insulted when Lottie gasps dramatically.

"No way!" a boy's voice says from behind her, and when Rosie turns Naveen is standing there, a solo cup in one hand and a banjo in the other. "Rosie Grimm snuck out of her house? The boys will never believe me!"

Rosie laughs softly and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "Go ahead and collect your winnings," she tells him with a sunny smile. "I know about the bet."

Naveen has the decency to flush beneath his deep tan, but he lets out a laugh, steals Rosie's knit hat, and tromps over to where Parker Hugo is standing, roasting marshmallows, and a few seconds later she sees Parker hand over a crisp five dollar bill.

Rosie turns back, only to find that Lottie has left with a wave, running over to Tiana Lafayette and Clara Drosslemyer who have both just arrived. Rosie feels very cold suddenly, and wishes Naveen didn't steal her hat. This sudden loneliness doesn't last for long though, as she spies Melody Hopper tending the bonfire. Melody meets Rosie's eyes, smiles, and waves her over, and Rosie gladly takes a seat on the log next to her.

"Hello!" Melody says in her soft, chipper voice. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Cormac told me you snuck out." She nods her head at one of Garvan's friends, who winks cheekily at the two girls before turning back to flirting with Clara, Lottie, and a very unamused Tiana.

Rosie blushes. "I did," she affirms, and Melody shoots her a knowing glance.

"It felt good, didn't it?" the brunette prods, and she laughs when Rosie nods.

Out of the nearly twenty people in her high school, Rosie almost definitely likes Melody Hopper the best. Melody is sweet and caring and level-headed, and more than once Rosie has seen her comforting one of the crying Elementary schoolers or making one of the Preschoolers laugh. Rosie sees her the most outside of school, too, since her dad is Henry's therapist and she drops him off at Mr. Hopper's office every Wednesday. Sometimes the three of them will walk together, and Melody plays along with Henry's crazy schemes and wild fantasies better than Rosie ever could.

Melody is also a good listener. She knows just when to ask the right questions, interjecting here and there as Rosie prattles on about poems and drawing to ask what kind of paints she likes to use and if she likes Robert Frost better than Edgar Allen Poe. (Of course Rosie prefers Frost. Who wouldn't?) They're only interrupted when Rosie's phone beeps to tell her that it's very late, and when the rhythmic 'clip clop' of hooves on the hiking trail lets them know that Garvan McLeod has finally arrived to the party.

Rosie's jaw drops. "He did _not_ ," she whispers in disbelief, "ride a horse all the way out here."

Melody just smiles. "Of course he did," she replies. "That's what he always does."

Rosie almost doesn't want to believe it, but there Garvan is, astride a hulking, white, beast of a stallion, and she starts to wonder if maybe there really is something to Henry's prince-theory.

* * *

 _ **They were almost at the river landing**_ and to freedom when they stumbled onto the battle field.

Rapunzel wanted to cry. They had come all this way, risked so much, just to be met with The Queen's forces not a mile away from the future she had barely dared to hope for. Instead, she clutched tighter to Garvan's back as he redirected Maximus away from the troops in black armor, making sure Pascal was safely ensconced in the collar of her cloak.

"We're going to take a different route," Garvan called over his shoulder as he guided Maximus back into the forest they had just came from, all the while praying none of The Queen's forces had caught sight of them or- worse- recognized them.

Rapunzel nodded, hiding her face in his back (she had always hated riding with a fiery passion) and Garvan coaxed the tired steed into a ferocious gallop as he took a back trail that he knew lead to the boat hidden on the edge of the river. Theodore, Garvan's loyal squire, was supposed there waiting for them, having promised to sail them down the river and across the fjord to the first of the Northern Isles where King Jasper would welcome them with open arms.

At least that's what they had planned. But fate, it seemed, had a certain love for damning their expectations.

A knight in gleaming silver armor and a band of seven, incredibly small men stopped them in their tracks.

"Halt!" the knight bellowed, as if they hadn't already done just that. "Who goes there?"

Garvan glanced at Rapunzel over his shoulder. They weren't stupid enough to tell the knight their names: Garvan, the King of the Northern Isles' adopted son, as well as his heir apparent, would be a valuable hostage, and Rapunzel, the last remaining Author in the Enchanted Forest, was already a wanted fugitive.

Unfortunately enough for them, one of the dwarves recognized Rapunzel from the posters, and loudly called out, "Hey, Blondie! Aren't you a Grimm? The Queen's looking for you."

Realization dawned on the knight's face, only slightly visible beneath his visor, and both Garvan and Rapunzel tensed, Garvan reaching for his sword and Rapunzel for her quill.

"You are..." The knight trailed off, shook his head, and removed his helmet, revealing a serious (but, Rapunzel thought, ultimately kind) face. "I am Sir Lancelot," he introduced himself, sweeping into an uncertain bow, "pledged to the True Queen of the realm, Snow White. I imagine she would be quite eager to meet you."

Rapunzel and Garvan exchanged another look. Somehow, they didn't think they had a choice. An understanding passed between them, and Garvan turned back to Sir Lancelot and nodded.

"Lead the way."

* * *

Despite what she tells herself, the bonfire isn't the last time Rosie sneaks out- if anything, it's the first of many.

The bonfire leads to an invitation from Melody to go to Clara's ballet recital in a week with her, Lottie, Tiana, and Parker. _One more time won't hurt_ , Rosie tells herself, and she sneaks out after turning Henry over to Mayor Mills when Ingrid is taking the evening shift.

She has so much fun with Lottie and Tiana at the recital that they invite her for breakfast before school on Monday at Granny's with Naveen. This time she takes Henry along with her, leaving home early under the pretext of getting help in English, and Tiana, the best waitress Granny has, immediately falls in love with the messy-haired ten-year-old, and starts heaping fresh waffles onto his plate and constantly refilling his mug with hot chocolate, all on the house.

This turns into a daily tradition, and the five of them are eventually joined by Melody and Clara, then Parker and Cormac, and finally, Garvan, who Rosie can't say she likes anymore than she used to. He's still a jerk, in her mind, and cares far too little about the world in general for her to think very much of him.

Henry definitely begins to notice a change in her, but he doesn't say anything, because he kind of thinks that maybe these changes will go away if she starts to notice them, too.

Henry first begins to notice it when Rosie reluctantly goes along with his secret rendezvous with his real mom, and even more when she starts outright lying to Mayor Mills, telling her that she's been keeping watch over her son like she always has when, in reality, he's just been spending a lot of time with Emma lately. He sees it again when she begins to genuinely open up to the people who have been trying so hard to be her friends. When she falls into easy silence with Melody on their walks to Doctor Hopper's office on Wednesdays, and when she gently chides Parker and Naveen and Cormac at breakfasts.

Maybe the most noticeable change is how _happy_ she looks nowadays.. And even though Henry has known from the beginning that Operation Cobra is really, really real, he doesn't completely believe it until he starts to see real-world Rosie turn into fairy-tale Rapunzel.

And he likes it.

But it isn't glaringly obvious until the day David wakes up from his coma, and the day Henry decides to go looking for him without telling Rosie.

Like any other sane person would do, she panics.

And then she decides to go look for Henry herself.

* * *

 _ **Snow White was exactly and not at all**_ like Rapunzel had envisioned.

This was usually the case with her stories. Rapunzel couldn't exactly tell the future, and she couldn't exactly change it. Grimms specialized in stories, hence the term Authors. Only one person in her family had ever managed to tell the future; her father, Abernathy Grimm. And one of the stories he had foretold was Snow White's.

Rapunzel had always pictured a kind, cheerful woman with dark hair and pale skin, who fought reluctantly and hated reluctantly and loved excessively and freely. Snow White was all of those things, but a little less, and at the same time, a little more.

She was kind and cheerful, Rapunzel discovered later, but not originally. The woman Rapunzel and Garvan were introduced to was harsh and determined, rattling off orders with ease and interrogating them ruthlessly (but without the violence that Rapunzel was used to) to determine if they were really who they said they were. After a long interview (and an appearance from an immensely angered Theodore) she and her husband, Prince David, decided that they were telling the truth.

And that's how it began.

Looking back on it, Rapunzel and Garvan had always been rebels- had never quite fit into The Queen's idea of a perfect kingdom- but this was the first time they had ever fought for something other than their own futures. The first time they had ever fought for a greater cause.

Garvan's remarkably cat-like reflexes and extreme talent with a sword made him an incredibly strong fighter for Snow and Charming's forces, and his and King Jasper's combined knowledge of the art of war meant that they were always one step ahead of The Queen. He and Charming became fast friends, not surprising as their pasts were so similar, and could often be seen fighing back to back or exchanging fencing tricks next to the fire after a long, hard battle.

Rapunzel, on the other hand, was a different story. While technically not a fighter, her powers (and her friendship) proved to be invaluable to Snow White. The Grimms had long been a legendary family of sorcerers in Mist Haven and the lands surrounding it. Some claimed that they didn't even exist, but Rapunzel was living proof. Their brand of magic was one of the most powerful and ancient ever conceived: Tale-Spinning.

A sort of sixth sense, Rapunzel's magic existed purely in the back of her head, in the inconsistent vapors of her dreams, and in the fiery tingling in her veins. When she put a pen to paper stories came rushing out of her; the past, present, and supposedly, the future. She knew things others didn't: bits and pieces of Snow White's past, the thoughts of a lonely girl selling matchsticks on a cold street, Garvan's time as an assassin, and Princess Clara's dreams from two kingdoms over. More than that though, Rapunzel could write things into existence: cajole doors into unlocking and create swords and shields out of thin air.

Sometimes useless, almost never precise, Tale-Spinning did more harm than good to its wielders. Rapunzel's mother had been killed by witch hunters, her father, sister, and uncle by ogres. No one knew what had happened to her eldest sister, but it couldn't have been anything good. Rapunzel herself had been kidnapped by pirates and brought to the tower for her magic, courtesy of The Queen, although she was more than likely the least powerful Tale-Spinner there had ever been.

Rapunzel hadn't exactly had much opportunity to receive more than just basic magic-training. She had been brought to the tower at seven years old, and had only begun learning her trade at four. Stories came to her very rarely (almost never, in fact), although she happened to be rather good at casting and breaking simple spells and curses. Most of her knowledge of the world came from the stories written by her parents and uncles, some of which hadn't even come true yet.

Her inabilities frustrated her more than anything, and any time she looked over a spell cluelessly or couldn't give Snow and Charming an answer, her blood boiled and her mind flitted to the life that had been stolen from her and The Queen who had imprisoned her.

But now- now was her chance to finally take revenge.

"How are you feeling?" Snow asked, taking a seat next to Rapunzel on a mossy, fallen tree trunk.

It was the night before they stormed the castle, and Rapunzel knew, in that itching, roiling place in her stomach, that tomorrow would be the end of the war. She just wasn't quite sure if it would be the end of their lives, as well. The twilight was red, a sure sign of blood to be spilled the next morning, and when Snow saw Rapunzel staring at the horizon, she lifted her head and frowned slightly, wondering if the younger girl was letting her pessimism get to her again.

"Don't worry," Snow murmured. "All will be well. This time tomorrow we will have reclaimed our kingdom- our _home_..." She trailed off, a bright smile tugging at the corners of her rosy lips, and all at once that familiar, lovely, rushing feeling went through her lungs and she shivered in anticipation.

Rapunzel turned and smiled hesitantly. "I hope you're right," she said, drawing her pale blue cloak closer around her shoulders. She looked ridiculously uncomfortable in her riding pants and tunic. "I hope I am just being a worry wart."

"Maybe Grumpy's staring to rub off on you," Snow joked lamely.

There was silence between the two of them again, and they listened mutely to the chirping of the crickets and the muted conversation of the soldiers at the bonfire across the clearing as Prince Naveen of Maldonia, one of their allies, amused them with his banjo and a song.

"I'm glad I met you," Rapunzel ventured carefully, glancing sharply at Snow and grinning. "Really, I am. And not just because I want revenge for what Regina has done to me- I'm honestly so glad that I became friends with you... You're going to be a wonderful queen."

With little warning, Snow gathered Rapunzel in her arms and hugged the young girl tightly. "I know I will be. We just need to get me on the throne first."

Rapunzel laughed. Snow reminded her of Alice sometimes, and the thought made her heart hurt, because this... this reminded her so much of her sisters, and she missed them so badly she could barely stand it.

Snow knew. She knew what Rapunzel was thinking: Had her family really died in an ogre attack, or was it The Queen's fault? Had Mary really abandoned her, or had she been taken? Snow didn't know, but with any luck, they would find out tomorrow.

The question was: Was Rapunzel ready to know?

Snow frowned softly and stroked the top of the younger girl's golden head. "Don't do this to yourself, Rapunzel," she murmured. "Not tonight. We can think about it tomorrow. But not tonight."

Forcing back the tears, Rapunzel nodded and straightened up, out of Snow's embrace. "Right," she said, staring into the distance. "Tomorrow. The day we finally win."

* * *

Rosie has never spent a lot of time in the woods. Even if Ingrid lets her out of the house by herself, she's not exactly an outdoors man. She remembers this with striking clarity the first time the heel of her ankle boots causes her to trip over a root on the path. Nevertheless, she gets back up, dusts herself off, raises her flashlight, and calls out, "Henry! Henry, are you out here?"

No one answers. She really wasn't expecting someone to, but a part of her is still hoping that Henry will magically appear out of the bushes with that _Hurry up you're missing the magic_ smile on his face.

He doesn't, so she does the only thing she really can do.

She calls for back up.

Every single one of her new friends comes. Melody and Clara, by far the sweetest of the bunch, are the first to show up, both of them so bundled up only their red noses are showing, although Tiana isn't far behind, having blown off her shift at Granny's because "that wonderful little boy isn't going missing on my watch, lovey." Lottie and Naveen show up soon after Tiana, and Naveen brings along Cormac and Parker, who make a few calls and eventually get Garvan to show up on the back of Maximus, the magnificent white stallion who tries to chew on Rosie's hair the minute he sees her.

Needless to say, she and the horse don't get along very well.

Which doesn't seem to matter very much to Garvan, who reaches a hand down and hauls her up behind him unwillingly with a simple, "I'm a good tracker. Come with me. We'll find him."

Garvan McLeod and Rosie Grimm do _not_ like each other. Rosie thinks he's annoying. Garvan thinks she has a stick up her ass. But they respect each other, and they have this unspoken agreement that they are the only people allowed to pick on each other. Rosie never really thought the agreement meant helping each other out in times of need, but based on the intensity he examines the forest with, apparently the agreement has changed.

"Nothing," Garvan says after almost an hour of silent searching, the others having split up to cover more ground. "Literally nothing. Either this kid didn't leave any tracks, or he's somewhere near the Canadian border."

Rosie groans, resisting the urge to smack her head against his back, and removes her hands from around his waist to press the heels of her palms into her eyes to keep back tears.

She lost Henry. _Her baby_.

It doesn't even matter that Mayor Mills will murder her. At this rate, she just might murder herself.

"Are you crying?" Garvan asks. He heard her sniffling.

Rosie stuffs a fist in her mouth. "No," she says in a muffled voice.

"Oh my God, you _are_." Garvan stops Maximus with a flick of the reins and hops off, tugging Rosie down to stand in front of him and frowning when he sees her reddened eyes. "Why are you crying? We're going to find him."

Rosie nods, even as a tear escapes and streaks down her frozen, cold cheek. "I know," she whispers. "I know we're going to, but-"

"But what?" Garvan stares at her unhappily. "If you know we're going to find him then why-"

"Because it's my fault he's missing in the first place!" Rosie whines, and _Oh my God she actually stamps her foot_. "I'm the worst baby sitter in the world!"

"Please, for all things holy, don't do the girl thing right now-"

"What was that?"

Both of them stop talking immediately. The only sound is Maximus's heavy breathing and both of their hearts pounding frantically. And then it happens again. The cracking.

They're standing on a trail that stretches around the rim of the gorge. There's a dry creek bed about twenty feet below them, and an old, old tree with deep roots serves as their cliff.

But it's starting to come loose.

"Shit," is all Garvan has time to say before the tree finally gives away and takes them down with it.

And then they're falling.

* * *

 _ **Rapunzel had never worn a ballgown before,**_ and she felt incredibly out of place in the chiffon confection Snow had dug out of the new trossieu Rapunzel had been gifted with after they had overthrown The Queen. The dress was covered in real, live, pink and cream roses that matched the ones braided into her loose hair. She hadn't even been able to lace herself into it; she'd needed a handmaiden's help.

An actual handmaiden. As in a servant. Rapunzel had never even dreamed of having one of those.

But probably the most uncomfortable thing were the shoes; delicate satin slippers dyed to match the roses with laces that climbed up Rapunzel's slender calves and heels so high she could barely walk without tripping over herself.

"Damn it," Rapunzel muttered as she teetered out of her wardrobe, slipping and sliding in the shoes. She'd worn nothing but riding boots or bare feet since escaping from the tower, and she couldn't remember the last time she had worn delicate slippers like these.

"Strong words, Punzie," Garvan called from her ridiculously soft bed. He was sprawled out across it, looking even more uncomfortable than her in his formal wear. "What's wrong?"

Rapunzel frowned at him slightly before making her way toward the bed unsteadily and flopping down next to him. "It's the shoes," she explained, frowning at them. "I can hardly walk in them."

Garvan rolled his eyes as he sits up, blowing away a tuft of gingery hair. "Then don't wear them."

"It's a wedding! The queen and king's wedding!" Rapunzel protested. "And I'm a bridesmaid! I have to wear shoes, Garvan."

"Snow won't mind," Garvan told her, rolling his eyes and getting off of the bed to kneel before her.

Rapunzel tugged on a long, golden curl uncertainly. "This princess thing isn't very me," she murmured contemplatively, thinking of Snow and how well she fit the role of queen, how beautiful she had looked in the wedding dress at every fitting, how adorable and romantic she and Charming were.

But as Garvan got on his knees in front of her, reaching up to undo the laces of her slippers and ease them off of her feet, she realized that maybe she didn't need to be a princess to win a handsome prince.

Maybe she had already found one.


	3. Puss in Boots

**Rose Red**  
 **Chapter 2: Puss In Boots**

Garvan is the first one to wake up.

He stirs unsteadily, coming quickly to the conclusion that what he's lying on is too rough, uneven, and cold to be his bed, and when his eyes flash open it takes him a minute to be able to see through the darkness. He takes in his surroundings.

The sky is crisp and clear, and he can just barely make out the Milky Way galaxy, a common sight in Story Brooke at the beginning of fall. He's at the bottom of the gorge, the one left over from the now-dry creek feeding into the river. The trail is about twenty feet above his head, up on the top of a sheer drop with no hand or foot-holds, and Maximus is nowhere in sight. Garvan hopes he's gone for help.

So where's-?

Something groans from his left, and he whips his head around to see what it is.

Rosie. Of course.

She's lying in the fetal position a few yards away from him, and her blond hair has come free from its braid. It sprawls messily around her face, and the gray knit hat she was wearing is abandoned a few feet away. There's a nasty-looking gash on her forehead, and the knees of her jeans have been dashed open, the skin beneath them bleeding. Her striped white shirt has been stained with dirt.

A second later her eyes flutter open and squint at him, obviously confused. And then she realizes, and just like that, she's herself again.

"We fell?" she asks, and it doesn't really sound like a question.

When Garvan nods, Rosie rises unsteadily to her feet and stares up at the trail above them, tugging on a lock of hair uncertainly. She's out of her element. Garvan isn't used to seeing her so confused. He's not sure if he likes it.

"How do we get back up?"

Garvan shrugs, scratching at his cold, numb ears. "We can't here," he tells her, and then, when he sees her frown, adds, "It's a sheer cliff-face, Goldilocks. And neither of us are rock-climbers. We're going to have to hike until we find a better place to ascend."

Rosie's freckled nose wrinkles, and Garvan can tell she's not happy about it. But she nods anyway and jams her hat back onto her head, waiting for him to start walking before following at his side.

A lot of time passes in silence before they start talking to each other, and when they do, it's hard to stop.

It's not that they like each other. They never have, and they probably never will. But they're stuck in the gorge, and they don't know if or when they'll be getting out, and it's boring and cold and maybe just a little bit lonely.

So they talk.

As it turns out, Rosie isn't as big a straight-laced stick-in-the-mud as Garvan thought she was. She loves her sister, _a lot,_ which he already knew, but she loves other things. Henry, for one. She would take a bullet for the kid, and if Garvan thinks it's maybe just a little adorable he doesn't say so. But she also loves to paint and to read, and she really, really loves watching movies. Her favorites are _The Breakfast Club_ , _Sixteen Candles,_ and _Back To the Future_. She has a secret love for the 80's.

Rosie discovers that Garvan actually does care about more than his hair and that stupid leather jacket he wears every day. His horse, Maximus, is the love of his life, and he's actually won a few awards at local equestrian competitions. He also really loves his dad, and, would you believe it? Garvan's adopted.

She doesn't like him, Rosie thinks as they finally find a good place to begin climbing. She does _not_ like Garvan McLeod. He's still really annoying. But maybe he just isn't quite as annoying as she thought he was.

The minute they top the ridge they were climbing it's like being ripped out of some kind of dream world and being thrown back into reality. A search party is waiting for them on the trail they find: Emma Swan, Sheriff Graham, Doctor Hopper-

And an extremely unhappy Ingrid.

* * *

 _ **King Donovan was dead,**_ and Prince Hans wasn't exactly distraught over the fact. None of the brothers were. Their father had been a harsh, cold man, and rather than mellow him, old age had brought with it the beginnings of insanity. Hans was glad to see him go.

He wasn't glad, however, to see his eldest brother inherit the throne.

"All hail King Caspian," the assembly cheered, all of them watching as the newest King of the Southern Isles descended from the throne, the crown glinting on his brow. "All hail his reign. All hail his most venerable hand. Hail the King! Long live the King!"

Hans' throat closed around the last few words, unable to get them out. He clenched his jaw with an audible _click_ , pasting on a fake smile as Caspian passed him and Ronan.

Ronan snorted softly under his breath, fingering the gilded sword at his side. "Don't make it so obvious, little brother," he chided in that amused voice of his, eyes glinting savagely. "Someone might just think you're plotting treason."

Hans grit his teeth in an effort to ignore his brother and nodded sharply, escaping from the coronation ceremony as quickly as he could and barricading himself into his bed chamber.

The raggedy ginger cat peered up at him from beneath the bed and mewled softly. Hans glared at it.

His other brothers had received crowns, jewels, swords, colonies in the Enchanted Forest. All Hans had inherited from his bastard father was a damned kitten.

"What are you looking at?" Hans snarled at the cat.

He was feeling unusually cruel that day. It hadn't started out very well, with Caspian announcing his engagement to Princess Ophelia of Domino, and Claude trouncing him soundly during their spar after breakfast. Hans winced when he felt the jagged cut on his forearm stretch as he reached up to smooth down his hair.

He glared at the cat again and snorted. "Of course," he muttered, walking over and crouching down to where the thing was still staring at him. "Of course he would leave me a cat. My father would have found it hilarious, the bastard."

The cat seemed to frown at him. And then- and then it was like its face began to stretch and shift and morph and- gingery fur turned to gingery hair and the intelligent brown eyes grew larger and more bored and-

An athletic, _human_ boy stood bare foot in front of him, clad in loose black clothing with a rapier at his side.

The cat bowed. "My lord," it said solemnly. "I am at your service. Anything you require, I will give."

Hans blinked at it, fighting off the urge to scream.

How in the seven hells-?

And then, it hit him.

A golden opportunity had just fallen into his lap. This cat... Its sword and the way it carried itself that spoke of years upon years of training...

 _Maybe Father's gift wasn't so useless after all,_ that darker side of him whispered seductively. He had always tried to repress that side, always told himself that he was better than all of his brothers combined, despite what any of them might think-

But that was before Father and Caspian and Claude and Princess Ophelia and Ronan.

Hans grit his teeth and tugged on his kid gloves, mind made up.

"Anything?" he clarified, and when the cat nodded, Hans cleared his throat. "Even killing someone?"

* * *

The door to the town house slams open, and Ingrid storms inside, the same scowl set thickly across her mouth. Rosie marches in afterwards, taking care to close the door behind her and send Paschal, her understandably alarmed golden retriever, an attempt at a comforting look. It's only an attempt, because Rosie is just as scared as her dog.

Ingrid is pissed. Like, really, really pissed.

Rosie isn't quite sure how to react in this situation. Her sister has never actually been angry with her before. Sure, there have been instances of _annoyance_ \- like when Rosie forgot to turn on the freezer and all of the ice cream in the parlor melted and the time she spilled green paint all over the floor of her bedroom. But this is different. Ingrid didn't say a word the entire drive home, and Rosie is very, very concerned.

Ingrid whirls on her, face bright red and incensed.

"What," she says slowly, carefully, "were you _thinking_?" Rosie opens her mouth to reply but snaps it shut when Ingrid whirls on her. "You snuck out of the house! Got yourself lost in the woods! We're lucky you aren't _dead_!"

Rosie tugs on a lock of hair, wincing as the knotted strands slide along the scratches on her palm. She shivers, and something in her recoils at Ingrid's rage. It calls back to something long-buried in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, it's like the walls of the living room are closing in on her and she just wants to be with Garvan again, talking about nothing in particular as they stroll through a fathomless forest under an endless sky-

"I'm sorry," Rosie replies quietly, sickly. "But it was Henry-"

"Have you snuck out before?" Ingrid hisses, not listening, and when Rosie hesitates: "Tell me the truth. Is this the first time you've done this?"

She opens her mouth, a lie about to spill out, and then hesitates. She doesn't want to know what will happen if Ingrid discovers she's lying. "No," Rosie whispers. "I've been sneaking out for months now."

If it's possible Ingrid's pale face turns even paler. Her tone is icy, and she won't look Rosie in the eyes. She just stares at the snowflake on her necklace. "Go," she hisses. "Go to your room right now."

"...no."

It's quiet, so quiet even Rosie can barely hear it. But it's there, and they can't avoid it.

"What did you just say?" Ingrid demands softly.

Rosie squares her shoulders and scowls at her. There's dirt on her face and leaves in her hair and crusty dried blood on her forehead, but she'll be damned if she lets herself get locked up again. "I said no," she replies, more confidently this time, although her voice still shakes. "I'm tired, Ingrid. I'm tired of being alone-"

"You're not alone, Sunshine," Ingrid insists. "You have me-"

"That's not enough!" Rosie cries, and she's actually crying now, tears leaking from her eyes as the stress of the night finally begins to take its toll on her. "I want friends, Ingrid. _Real friends_. And for the first time in my life, I finally feel like a normal kid, and you want to take that away from me, and I'm not going to let you this time!"

"Sunshine," Ingrid tries again, voice dangerous. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"But the only thing you're doing is isolating me, Ingrid," Rosie pleads. "Please, _please_ , just let me-"

" _No_."

Rosie's face turns stony. "Fine then," she whispers, and she's still crying, but they're angry tears now, and Paschal whimpers at her as she fastens the leash around his neck. "Then I'm leaving."

"And just where do you think you're going?" Ingrid demands hotly.

Rosie snorts softly, brushing tears away from her cheeks with mittened hands. She slams the door open, tossing her schoolbag over her shoulder, and shoos Paschal over the threshold. "Anywhere but here."

"Rosie Grimm," Ingrid hisses. "Get back in here right now!"

But it's too late. Rosie and Paschal are already down the street and disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

 _ **King Jasper of the Northern Isles**_ didn't care much for his brother's kingdom, or for his thirteen sons. But then again, he hadn't cared much for his brother, either. No one seemed to, really.

Jasper wasn't surprised. Even as a child, Donovan had had quite the temper. He hadn't had very many friends then, and didn't seem to now.

If anything, the kingdom rejoiced over the old king's death. Their new ruler, Caspian, seemed to be a fair (albeit ridiculously conceited) man, and would most likely make a wonderful monarch; especially with his new wife, Ophelia, who was just lovely.

Jasper still wasn't a fan of the Southern Isles. He much preferred the North, where both winters and summers were mild and misty, and the near-constant rains cooled the land and produced thousands upon thousands of towering oak trees. Jasper missed the easy camaraderie between his knights and advisers, and the kindness of their wives and daughters. The Southern Isles were too much like Arrendelle, all blazingly hot summers and shameless courtesans and backhanded compliments.

The nights were cooler than the days, and Jasper had taken to strolling the corridors of the palace once everyone else had retired to their bedchambers. Sleep had always managed to elude him.

It was the week after Caspian's coronation that it happened. Jasper was taking a nighttime walk through the third floor when he passed by the King and Queen's bedchamber to see one of the princes standing outside of it. Soldier's instincts kicking in, Jasper swiftly and quietly snuffed out his candle and ducked into an alcove behind a tapestry to observe the prince.

It was the youngest one. The one with the red hair. Hans, Jasper thought his name was. He only really remembered the two eldest: Caspian and Claude.

What Hans was doing outside of his brother and sister-in-law's bedroom, Jasper wasn't quite sure he wanted to know, but the answer became crystal clear when another young man with red hair snuck out from behind the door with a bloodied knife in hand.

Prince Hans scowled at the younger boy, tugging anxiously on his kid gloves, and blanched at the bloodied knife, face green in the dim light pouring out of his brother's chambers. "Is it done?" he hissed.

The ginger-haired boy nodded, glance pausing over the knife before tucking it carefully into the pocket of his sleeveless waist coat. "It is done, Master."

"Good." Prince Hans nodded jerkily, trying his hardest not to look at the door. "One down, twelve to go." He cleared his throat roughly and tugged at his gloves again. "Place the knife with Caspian's mistress. Do it quickly. The drugs we gave her aren't going to last all night."

Jasper's eyes widened, and he stifled a cry of shock.

Hans had just had his brother killed.

And yet, the plot thickened again when the younger boy crouched down on all fours. His face shifted and then narrowed, eyes growing wider and hair springing up over the rest of him, until in his place was a ragged kitten who scampered down the darkened corridor and disappeared from sight.

Prince Hans hesitated in front of the door, looking, for a bare moment, as though he would like very much to undo his previous actions.

And then, he shook his head and walked away.

* * *

Garvan is just as surprised as the rest of them when Rosie Grimm appears on the Hoppers' doorstep at two that morning, sniffing back tears and hanging onto the leash of a very apprehensive golden retriever. She doesn't look like she's had a shower yet, and her face is flushed and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She shivers as Melody ushers her into the kitchen for a mug of hot tea, murmuring something about getting into a fight with her sister and how she didn't know where else to go and please could she stay here for a night or so, just to clear her head?

Melody and Doctor Hopper tell her to take as much time as she needs, and then that's that.

Garvan and the others are there. He met them at the Hoppers' townhouse after being found by the search party and calling his dad to let him know he isn't dead. All of them were sitting in the living room, worrying over Rosie (or, at least, Parker and the girls were) when she knocked on the door, and they stay for an hour after that to make sure she's alright before splitting up for the night and heading back to their respective homes.

Garvan's dad is relieved when he gets home, and it's a while before he manages to get to bed. When he does, he doesn't think anything is going to change, and it doesn't, really.

Not noticeably, anyway. But time begins to rush by, and seasons change, and the town changes, and Garvan and his friends begin to change, too.

The first one, really, is Melody. She's always been the quiet one, the sweet one who's content to fade into the background and offer support to anyone who needs it. Garvan's always thought she gets that from her dad, the town's psychiatrist, and he's always known that the two are close, but he doesn't know how close they really are until the sinkhole.

It happens the day before Halloween. Garvan and the rest of the group are in Lottie Buchanan's backyard, watching fishing boats glide up and down along the bay and talking about their plans for the weekend. Naveen is talking about the party he's throwing, and he's motioning so wildly with his hands that he knocks the pitcher of lemonade all over himself when the first of the tremors shake the ground.

There are screams from all of them. Garvan dives under the table he had his feet propped up on, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Parker throw himself out of his deck chair and tackle Clara to the floor, shielding her with his body. If anyone else sees it, they don't mention it.

Later, they find out from Lottie's dad that one of the mine shafts under the town has collapsed-

Trapping Henry and Doctor Hopper beneath it.

No one can stop Melody from sprinting to the sinkhole, and no one tries to until Sheriff Graham, who has to physically restrain her from throwing herself down the mine shaft to try and help her dad. She's sobbing as he does, face as red as the scarf she always wears. Graham hands her off to Mary Margaret, who tries to comfort Melody as the rest of the town figures out how to get Doctor Hopper and Henry back.

It's a tense afternoon. The group takes turns supporting Melody (and Garvan and Parker both feel so awkward they decide to share the time, Parker offering a running commentary from his dad, who is chief of police, and Garvan patting Melody's back the same way he pats Maximus' flank).

They're all scared. Henry has become the group's unofficial mascot. None of them are quite sure what they're going to do without him, least of all Rosie, who is so pale she looks like she's going to faint.

The biggest shock of the day comes when Mayor Mills gets into a screaming match with Emma over whose fault it is that Henry is in the mine shaft. Melody's face turns bright red again and she gets to her feet, leaning away from Tiana, who looks a bit like she's about to throw up.

"If it's anyone's fault, it's yours," Melody tells the mayor, absolutely incensed. Garvan can't remember if he's ever seen her so mad before. "I know what you told my dad, and that's called emotional manipulation and abuse. Henry had a mental break, and you're the cause of it! So don't you dare put anyone else at fault but yourself! _A paper bag would be a better mother than you._ And if my dad doesn't make it out of this alive, I swear to all things holy I will call DEFAX on your ass!"

She's fuming by the end of it, tears the size of golf balls dripping down her cheeks, and Clara catches Melody around the waist as she sobs, finally breaking down as the stress of it all finally hits her. Clara and Ruby, a waitress from Granny's, escort Melody to the fire truck to calm down while Mayor Mills stands there with her jaw dropped. Garvan wishes he could snap a picture.

Of course they manage to get Henry and Doctor Hopper out of the mine shaft, and of course everyone almost sheds a tear when Melody is reunited with her father, and of course Henry is acting like he's just gone on the greatest adventure of his life, but Garvan doesn't let out the same sigh of relief that everyone else does.

The chaos has only just begun, and he knows it.

He's proven right when Sheriff Graham's dead body is found in the police station two weeks later.

What follows is the running race to end all running races. Sidney Greene versus Emma Swan for the newly-opened sheriff position. Garvan, Clara, Parker, and Naveen are the only ones old enough to vote, and they rub it in the others' faces to no end. Out of the four of them, Parker is the only one who votes for Sidney, and they tease him about it afterwards at Emma's celebration party.

Ingrid shows up at the party, demanding to talk to Rosie. The two sisters almost get into a screaming match that Doctor Hopper quickly defuses. All of them watch, stunned, as he manages to talk Ingrid and Rosie into family therapy.

Garvan isn't quite sure how it happens, but weeks later, after a woman named Kathryn goes missing and the whole town decides to blame Mary Margaret, Rosie explains that she's made up with her sister and has decided to move back home, on the condition that she gets to leave the town house whenever she wants.

It feels a little bit like all of their troubles are solved, but of course, they're disastrously, hideously wrong.

* * *

 _ **Three princes dead**_ , and not a soul thought to suspect their youngest brother.

Jasper was growing weary of the funerals and the mourning clothes, and longed for the comfort of his own kingdom, and yet, he knew he couldn't go back. At least, not before he set all the wrongs of the Southern Isles right.

As the archbishop issued the burial rites, and Prince Orpheus' body was lowered into its casket, King Jasper set his aging shoulders and slipped out of the palace chapel, making his way quickly and discreetly to Prince Hans' bedchamber.

The cat was sleeping beneath the bed when Jasper entered the room. Without a second thought, he wrapped a hand around its scraggly tail and yanked it out and into his arms, the cat letting out an alarmed yowl as he did and trying to swat him with its claws. Jasper only frowned at it, wrapping his cloak around the both of them before striding out of the room and into his own, only releasing the cat once the door was closed and locked behind the two of them.

The cat became a boy the next second, and Jasper found himself at sword-point.

"Who are you?" the cat hissed, blowing tufts of gingery hair out of its eyes.

Jasper met the cat's brown eyes, lifting his hands to show that he wasn't carrying a weapon. "King Jasper of the Northern Isles," he introduced himself. "And I am here to help you."

"Help me," the cat repeated wearily, lowering his rapier, although he made no move to sheath it. "What could you possibly do to help me?"

"May I have a name, first?" Jasper requested innocently.

The cat eyed him. "Garvan," he answered shortly. "My name is Garvan."

"Well then, Garvan," Jasper began, "I may know of a way to free you."

* * *

Henry is sick the week before winter break, and the walks to and from school are just a little bit lonely, especially on the days when Rosie and her friends don't go to Granny's for breakfast. Wednesday is one of those days. It's unusually warm that morning, and all Rosie leaves the house with is a thick sweater over her uniform, despite vehement protests from Ingrid, who is still having an incredibly hard time loosening the reigns, although Rosie loves her for trying.

She sighs heavily, head full of the equations and concepts she pored over the night before in preparation for her Precalc final this morning. She's so distracted, in fact, that she doesn't notice the man creeping up behind her until it's too late.

Something wraps around her arms and waist, iron-stiff, and the breath is knocked out of her. Before Rosie can scream, a cloth is stuffed into her mouth. It tastes sickly sweet, and she freezes, resisting the urge to breath in, kicking at her captor as hard as she can-

" _Breathe_!" a man's voice hisses in her ear.

She tries to resist, tries to breath through her nose, but fingers pinch over the tip of it and she's forced to inhale the scent coming off of the rag.

As her eyes begin to droop closed, through the haze, Rosie sees a ruggedly handsome face marred by a deep scowl and an insane light in his eyes as he drags her toward a black sedan.

* * *

 _ **Garvan's horse did not like him.**_ Horses never really had. He thought it had something to do with the the fact that he had started out as a cat.

He couldn't really remember much. All he knew was that one day he was a cat, and then the next, a man in a black cape was doing something to him- _something that hurt_ \- and he was passed from person to person, from master to master, every day a blur of demands and instructions and this numb feeling in the back of his mind that told him this was wrong.

Garvan wanted his freedom. He didn't know when this hunger had started, or why it was there, but it was, and he burned for it. And if this strange king was promising a way out, he would take it with no questions asked.

Garvan listened mutely as King Jasper spun tales of a sorcerer called The Dark One, who could grant any wish, only asking for a small favor in return. The two men galloped through the Enchanted Forest on horseback, the King navigating with an aging map he had stolen from the palace library.

"It seems that we're here," the King noted suddenly as they reached a clearing in the immense forest.

Garvan narrowed his eyes at the spot. There seemed to be a kind of... barrier protecting it. It shimmered faintly in the early morning sun, and if he listened hard enough, he could just barely hear a soft, powerful humming coming from it. He wished, suddenly, that he were in his cat form so he could get a closer look at it. After years of doing noble men's dirty work, he had found he could see past most spells as a cat.

Garvan didn't trust the strange king enough to shift in front of him, though, remembering how easily he had been captured as an animal.

He frowned at the barrier, eyes roving the clearing skittishly for any kind of threat. "How are we supposed to get past it?" he asked.

King Jasper frowned down at the book in his hands. "According to this," he began as his horse pawed nervously beneath him, "to summon the Dark One, we must say his name. Rumpelstiltskin."

Garvan blinked, and for a moment, thought that nothing had happened. And then the next thing he knew they were standing in the middle of a sunlit library, a strange man with the skin of a crocodile standing in front of them.

The man let out a maniacal giggle, and if Garvan had had a tail, it would have been standing straight on end. "You called?"

* * *

Rosie remembers reading stories where the main character wakes up captured and is confused. They don't know where they are, can't remember what happened, and until their captor walks into the room, has no idea that anything is wrong.

None of that happens to Rosie.

She knows what's happened the moment her eyes snap open, and she tries to scream. Only a muffled whimper comes out of her mouth. She's been gagged.

The fact terrifies her more than anything else that's happened today, and she begins to thrash, crying out when she realizes her hands are tied behind her back with some kind of soft fabric, and she's secured to a hard, wooden chair with silky ties around her waist and at both of her ankles. Her hysteria grows when she sees Sheriff Swan and Mary Margaret in similar situations across from her in the unfamiliar room. She's about to descend into a full panic attack when a pair of cold hands caress her shoulders soothingly, and a man's voice whispers, "Hush."

Rosie obeys, even as shudders continue to wrack her body uncontrollably. A man's face appears before her, the same one she saw dragging her to his car, and she thinks she might recognize him from somewhere around town.

"I'm going to take your gag out," he tells her softly, looking at her like she's a wounded animal who might attack him at any moment. "Please don't scream. There's no one around to help you, anyway."

She nods slowly, teeth chattering together once the man removes her gag. Her lips are cracked and mouth dry, and the man sees this, offering her a drink. Rosie hesitates and then nods, too scared to say anything. As the man eases a tea cup to her mouth and lets her sip at it, she thinks that maybe accepting something from her kidnapper isn't the best idea. It could be drugged.

It isn't. The two stare at each other, Rosie wondering what he plans to do with her, while the man looks at her with this... _something_ in his eyes. The something scares her.

"I'm Jefferson," he tells her softly, politely. "And you're Rapunzel."

Her heart skips a beat and stutters. The only other person who's ever called her that is Henry, and once Garvan, as a joke.

"It's Rosie," she corrects him in a scared, shaky voice. "Rosie Grimm."

"No." Jefferson shakes his head, and only then does Rosie realize what he's wearing: A tailored smoking jacket and bright violet cravat. He looks like he belongs in Victorian England. "You're Rapunzel. I'm sure of it. You don't look a lot like your sister, but I know it's you."

"My- my sister?" Rosie repeats. And Ingrid- oh God- _Ingrid._ She must be terrified. How long has Rosie been unconscious for, _and what did Jefferson do to her during that time_? "What are you talking about? Ingrid and I look almost the same."

Only Ingrid is older and has paler coloring. Her eyes are an icy blue, whereas Rosie's are grass green. But their faces are too similar not to be related.

"Not Ingrid," Jefferson tells her. "Alice."

The name strikes something in Rosie. Something that resonates in her the same way Henry's stories and Garvan's jokes do sometimes.

 _Alice_.

 _Who is Alice?_

Sheriff Swan stirs from across the room, and Jefferson is at her side in a flash. The older woman's eyes flash open, and Rosie is amazed at how quickly she assesses the situation, eyes lingering on Rosie's bound form and then flashing. Jefferson eases the gag from her mouth (now Rosie can see that it's a cravat, much like the one around Jefferson's neck), and Emma is quick to demand, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Jefferson?"

He simply smiles at her, and Rosie begins to shake uncontrollably as the man approaches her again, deftly untying the scarves securing her to the chair, although he leaves her hands bound. "I think I'm saving all of us."

Rosie hardly has time to wonder what the hell he's talking about before he marches her out of the room and down a long, stark white hallway. She's taken to a wide room marked with alcoves and portrait windows, and set down gently on a cushioned stool in front of a work bench cluttered with top hats. Jefferson secures her hands to the seat of the stool before leaving and subsequently returning with a strangely silent Emma.

"Why are we here, Jefferson?" she asks suddenly. Her eyes are fixed dangerously on him as he unties Rosie's hands and walks over to her.

"Simple," Jefferson mutters under his breath. "I want you to break the spell." At Rosie's confused (and mostly terrified) look, he elaborates. "I'm sure Henry has told you about the Curse. If anyone can get rid of it, it's the Savior and the Tale-Spinner."

At Henry's name, Rosie straightens. "Don't go _near_ Henry," she snarls, scrambling out of her seat and as far away from Jefferson as she can get in the strange room. "Don't you dare touch him-!"

"Relax," Jefferson states in that voice like Novocaine. Rosie hates how calm he is. "I don't intend to hurt your little friend."

That's when he makes his biggest mistake.

He unties Emma's hands.

In the next second she has him on the floor, trying to stab him with a brim-shaper. She grunts as Jefferson tries to wrench it out of her hands and yells at Rosie over his head, "Run! Go get help!"

Rosie feels bile rising up through her throat but chokes it back and nods, those shudders wracking her small frame again. She takes off as quickly as she can, knees knocking together from fear, and as she stumbles through the door and lets it slam behind her, she hears a cry from Emma and something knock over with a crash.

She makes it halfway down the stairs, she can see the door, see the sunlight pouring in through the window panes.

The only problem is, Rosie is small. Like, really, really small. She stands at about five-one, and that's only if she stretches. She's no match for Jefferson, who towers above her and frankly terrifies her with his panther-like grace and the sheer power she can see rippling through his slim muscles.

Rosie screams when he tackles her, and doesn't stop screaming (and scratching, and kicking, and biting) as he fairly drags her back up the stairs and tosses her lightly back into the hat room. She pauses at the sight of Emma, who is now sporting a nasty-looking gash across her forehead.

"Now," Jefferson pants, an icy tone in his voice and a dangerous look in his eye, "if you're done. We'd best get a move on."

* * *

 _ **The deal was simple.**_ Rumpelstiltskin had told Garvan that he could have his freedom in exchange for the heart of a witch who lived only a few leagues away. Garvan was surprised at how easy it was. He had been so sure he would be given some impossible task, like slaying a dragon or cutting off his own hand. But now, his freedom was so close he could taste it, and he wanted it more than ever before.

To help Garvan on his quest, Rumpelstiltskin had given him a pair of boots that supposedly had the ability to pass through magical barriers. He would need it, as the witch's home was protected by a shield that kept out intruders.

King Jasper was unusually quiet on the horse ride to the witch. Garvan wasn't sure if he cared or not yet. The king had certainly treated him better than any of his past masters, and wanted to help him be free, so Garvan decided to like him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, causing Maximus-the-horse to whinny and glare up at him. "Is... Is something troubling you, King?" Garvan asked. He was unused to _feelings_ , and even more uncomfortable with talking about them. Things were much less complicated as a cat.

"No," the old king muttered. "Nothing important, anyway."

Silence reigned for the rest of the ride. Night had fallen long past when they finally reached the magic barrier that Rumpelstiltskin had spoken of, and Garvan walked through first, his magic boots allowing King Jasper to pass only when he had a hand on the boy's shoulder.

The tower was unexpected.

Garvan and King Jasper drew up short when they saw it, and a few minutes passed before they proceeded, circling the base of the building once, twice to find an entrance, and, not coming across one, scaling the wall with ropes from their saddle bags and entering through a pane-less window.

The girl was unexpected, too.

Garvan's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. He didn't like the sensation. He liked the bruises and scars marring her nearly-translucent skin even less.

She was small. Very, very small. Malnourished, almost. Garvan could see bones through her pale skin at certain angles. She wore a thin scrap of a dress that looked far too small for her, and faded black slippers that had seen better days. Worst of all was the shackle around her right wrist. It was much too tight, and looked as if it had been on for a very long time. The bone stuck out at odd angles. Garvan realized, with a sick feeling rising in his throat, that the girl's wrist must have grown around the shackle. He wondered if her hand worked anymore.

But the most shocking thing was her hair.

There was just so _much_ of it. Feet upon feet upon feet. Enough to circle the base of the tower three times, and all of it was the kind of blond that shone silver in the moonlight. It was matted and there were things caught in it, and it was obvious to Garvan that this girl hadn't been able to take care of it in a long time.

"This can't be the witch," King Jasper muttered, breaking the sort of trance Garvan had fallen into. "At least not the one the Dark One was talking about."

He was holding something in his hands, and in the faded light pouring in through the window, Garvan saw that it was a child's old, faded drawing. King Jasper must have found it under the bed. It was a picture of a family, with three girls, a boy, and a mother and father.

The sight made Garvan's chest clench, and for the life of him, he couldn't comprehend why.

"She is," he said quietly, hand fisted around the map in his hands. "This is where the Dark One's instructions led us."

King Jasper fixed him with a look. "Garvan," he whispered. "You're not really going to carve out her heart, are you?"

Garvan blinked slowly.

Was he?

"King... It's the only way to be free."

And freedom was so close. He knew what it tasted like now. It tasted of open air and the heady scent of pine trees. Of moonlight dancing across open land and no menacing castles or harbors or fjords for miles. Of the clip clop of a horse's hooves and the ability to chose.

Garvan wanted it. He wanted that choice and he _had it_ -

His hand closed around the hilt of the knife at his belt and he stepped toward the girl, the tip of the dagger pressing lightly against her breast, where he knew her heart was. The flimsy fabric of her dress tore, and a dot of blood welled up and stained the faded white fabric.

He hesitated.

The girl let out a faint whimper in her sleep from the slight pain, and Garvan drew back his hand, letting the knife fall to the stone floor of the tower with a light 'ping'.

"Let's go," he choked out, something stinging at his eyes.

King Jasper nodded, a thoughtful expression curving up his weakening jaw, and the two men descended from the tower and passed through the barrier, finding their horses tied to the trees where they had left them.

Maximus whinnied softly at Garvan, who sat limply in his saddle. The cat and the horse followed the king back into the forest, and it was with a deep swelling of regret that Garvan stared at the shimmering barrier as it slowly disappeared into the horizon.

* * *

The fact that someone has been stalking her comes as a shock to Rosie, who has always considered herself vastly uninteresting. But the proof is there. She has to fight back the urge to vomit when Jefferson shows her and Emma his telescopes. The two facing her and Ingrid's townhouse and the ice cream parlor are bad, but perhaps most disturbing is the one aimed at Melody's apartment window.

Jefferson has been watching Rosie and Emma for a very long time, then.

He knows about Henry's conspiracy theory, and speaks about it the same way the boy does: with the kind of certainty that's endearing on a ten-year-old, and horrifying on someone who is old enough to be Rosie's father. Jefferson is delusional, and the fact that he somehow thinks Emma and Rosie can get him out of "their world" and back to Wonderland (by making a hat, no less) almost makes Rosie start to cry again. If Emma weren't here, she probably would have by now.

Making a hat is certainly not as easy as it looks. The brim is misshapen and floppy, and the patterned, plum-colored fabric they're using is attached to the base with uneven stitches with wide knots. Emma has already stabbed herself several times with the sewing needle, and Rosie's head is pounding from the stress of it.

Neither of them are quite sure what it is Jefferson wants from them, mostly because he hasn't explained it in a way that they can understand. The most they've been able to get out of him is a lot of cryptic bilge that doesn't make the least bit of sense and causes Rosie's head to pound even more.

She's not doing very well.

The school tie is like a noose around Rosie's neck, making already-shallow breaths come out even shallower. Her hair has long since come loose of its ponytail, and it hangs in her frightened eyes, giving her a wild look. Her heart has been pounding so hard for so long that she's worried it's about to give out, and her head feels like it's being smacked with an anvil every time Jefferson starts talking about "Tale-Spinners" or "Saviors" or the "Enchanted Forest".

During one of the very, very rare moments when Jefferson isn't hovering over their shoulders, Emma leans over to Rosie and tells her to get ready.

Rosie sees why soon after.

During one of Jefferson's deluges, Emma leans in close to his face (so close Rosie begins to feel decidedly uncomfortable being in the same room as the two), puts a hand on his shoulder-

-and slams his face into the work table.

"Now, Rosie!" Emma shouts at her.

Rosie is surprised by how fast she moves, leaping off of her stool and over the work table, narrowly avoiding Jefferson, who shakes Emma off of him and tosses her to the floor. Rosie doesn't see very much of the fight (doesn't want to), but she _hears_ when Emma's head is smacked into a stool, and realizes they won't be getting out anytime soon unless she _does something_.

So Rosie swipes the brim-shaper from off of the table, leans over, and stabs Jefferson in the arm with it.

He lets out a cry and swats her to the side. Rosie yelps as she feels herself knocking into the worktable, sending it and herself to the floor. Something sharply angled hits her forehead, and she feels blood dribbling down her face.

Things get hazy after that. The next thing Rosie knows is that glass is shattering, a man's voice is screaming, and then Emma's pale, worried face appears over her and helps her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" Emma asks, breathing strained.

Rosie hesitates before nodding, and with Emma's help, frees herself from the wreckage of the work table and gets shakily to her feet. The two women don't let go of each other, and the contact is amazingly comforting for Rosie, who was starting to wonder if they would ever get out of this place.

"What happened?" Rosie asks, taking notice of the broken window and the fact that Jefferson is nowhere in sight.

Emma's face goes pale again, and the grip she has on Rosie's school shirt tightens. "He fell." The sheriff's eyes have this faraway look in them, and there's no expression on her face. "There was nothing I could do."

"He-" Rosie can't get the words out. She shakes her head instead, fighting back the urge to vomit, and kneels down on the carpet, the world spinning around her.

Emma hesitates to leave her, knowing from experience how dangerous panic attacks can be, but decides that Rosie can take care of herself and goes to free Mary Margaret.

The minutes tick by on the many grandfather clocks situated around the room as Rosie takes deep, calming breaths. By the time the world is clear again, Emma is back with Mary Margaret, who is at Rosie's side immediately, fretting over her still-bleeding head wound. Rosie accepts her attentions as Emma calls for back up, and as the house is flooded by the Story Brooke fire department and newspaper crew (the closest thing there is to an emergency response team in town) something catches her eye from the other side of the room.

It's the hat.

If anyone finds it strange that Rosie takes it home with her, they don't say so.

* * *

 _ **"Get up. Quickly."**_

The shock of being woken up so abruptly faded quickly, and King Jasper was out of his bed in an instant. If he was surprised to see a nervous looking Garvan standing in his darkened chamber, he didn't show it.

The two men had returned from their quest only that day, and to say Prince Hans was displeased at Garvan for disappearing had been an understatement. Garvan's face burned when he remembered the harsh words.

But that didn't come close to comparing to the churning, thick sickness in his stomach.

He hadn't been able to help it. That was the worst thing about his curse. If his master told him to do something, he had to do it. No matter the consequences or his own feelings on the matter. It was total control, so when Prince Hans had asked where Garvan had been, he'd had to tell him the truth.

The Prince wanted King Jasper dead.

Tonight.

Garvan had been ordered to do it, but _he couldn't._ He physically couldn't perform the act. He'd had every intention of doing so, of plunging his dagger into Jasper's heart the same way he had done to Caspian and Ophelia and Claude and countless others before them. What did he care if the elderly man who had risked everything to save him was killed? What did he care if the first person to show him kindness was murdered by his own hand?

The truth was, Garvan cared far too much, and it scared him.

He had been about to kill Jasper the same way he had been about to kill the girl in the tower when he just- _stopped_. His mind and his curse were screaming at him, in a constant tug of war that had stilled his dagger and freed his mouth long enough to speak.

"I've been ordered to kill you," he explained to the king. "Hurry. Run while you can. Go home. _Please_."

The king stared at him for far too long. Far too long to be safe.

" _What are you waiting for_?" Garvan hissed at him impatiently.

Jasper's face softened, and Garvan's entire body grew stiff when the elderly king placed an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

"You've freed yourself. You don't know it yet, but I believe you're on the way to doing it. "

Garvan's confusion was nearly tangible, but there was no more time to spare. His curse was fighting its way back to the forefront of his mind, and it took every ounce of self control to push it back.

" _Go_ ," he snarled at Jasper.

The king gifted him with one more affectionate glance, busy pilling on breeches and a cloak, strapping his sword to his side.

"Find your freedom, Garvan," he told the cat, halfway out the door, "and come back to me. You will always have a home in the Northern Isles, should you care to claim it."

He disappeared into the corridor then, into the black, glorious night, and that was the last Garvan saw of him for what felt like a very long time.

* * *

The past few months have been a series of firsts for Rosie.

Her first time being arrested is one she never thought would happen in a million years.

Emma doesn't give her a reason for it, either. Rosie's standing outside of Mayor Mills' house two months after Jefferson (and she still gets nightmares of him sometimes), waiting for Henry so she can walk him to school, and the next thing she knows, handcuffs are being slapped onto her wrists, and she's being manhandled into the backseat of a yellow bug. Emma doesn't even read Rosie her rights.

She takes the handcuffs off, though, once they reach the precinct. Rosie doesn't have time to ask what the hell's going on before she's being tossed lightly into one of the only two cells in the building.

"Emma!" Rosie finally shouts, because she's been demanding answers for what feels like a long time now and still doesn't have any of them. "What the hell is going on? You can't just throw me in jail-"

"Can't I?" Emma grunts, not meeting her eyes, hands shoved in the pockets of her red leather jacket.

"You _can't_ ," Rosie asserts forcefully. Her hands are wrapped around the bars of the cell, and her freckled nose is wrinkled in consternation. "It's unconstitutional to arrest someone without proper reason, and-"

Emma fixes her with an unamused look. "What are you going to do about it? Call the cops?"

That's enough to shut Rosie up for a good five minutes-

Until the doors to the station fling open and Mayor Mills struts through them, dragging Garvan behind her by the scruff of his leather jacket. He's cursing up a storm, and his entrance brings on a whole other swarm of questions from Rosie, but Mayor Mills ignores both of them and shoves Garvan unceremoniously into the cell next to Rosie's.

"I got him," Mills says simply. Rosie's always wondered how someone as stoic as her raised someone as hyper as Henry.

Garvan glares at the two women and tries to kick down the cell doors. He flings back on impact and manages to land spectacularly in a pile on the ground. Rosie's eyes widen and she turns to Emma.

"What's going on?" she asks firmly.

Emma and Mills exchange a meaningful glance that Rosie can't say she likes very much (since when have they started working together?) and Mills is the one who talks. "It's Henry. He needs your help."

This is what makes Rosie freeze. _Henry is in trouble_.

"Is he hurt?" she demands immediately. "Did someone take him? What happened?"

Emma holds up a hand and stops her. "Rosie," she says slowly, hesitantly, "you're going to think we're crazy. Do you remember Henry's plan? Operation Cobra?" Rosie nods, unsure where Emma is taking this. She sounds remarkably like Jefferson did, and that familiar bile rises in Rosie's throat.

"It's real, Rosie. It's all real."

Rosie pauses, and when she speaks again, it's not in a very convincing voice. "You're insane," she decides. "This is insane- let me out!"

"No," Mills tells her shortly. "You know the truth, Rosie. I know you do. Stop pretending like you don't because you're scared."

"I'm not-!" Rosie has to take a deep breath to calm herself down. Something about Mayor Mills has always rubbed her the wrong way, and she's never been able to figure out quite what. She lets out a long sigh and fixes both of them with a very, very scared look. "Why should I trust you?"

"You don't have to," Emma says hastily, getting up from her perch on an uncomfortable-looking, blue felt couch. "You don't have to believe us if you don't want to, but please, just listen. Henry is in trouble, and you're the only one who might be able to help him."

A lot of thoughts pass through Rosie's head then, but the most prominent of them is this: _Henry is in trouble_.

"What do I have to do?"

Mills grabs Garvan through the bars and pushes him harshly towards Rosie's cell. "Kiss him."

"What?" Garvan rips away from her, flinging himself as far away from Rosie as he can. "No!"

"No," Rosie adds quickly. "No, no, no, no, no. No, no, _no_!"

Mills rolls her eyes at Garvan. "Oh, please. We all see the way you look at her."

"I don't look at her like anything-"

"Just- kiss her! Please?" Emma exclaims. "Just one kiss, and we'll let the two of you go. If we're wrong, we're wrong, and you can both forget this ever happened. Please?"

Garvan and Rosie stare at each other cautiously. Rosie because if she kisses Garvan, he'll be her first _ever_ , and Garvan because he knows that and isn't keen on the idea of stealing Rosie Grimm's lip-ginity.

But it's Henry. _Their_ Henry (because somewhere along the way Henry has become more than just Rosie's). And the two of them will do anything if it means he's safe.

They share another look. Garvan widens his eyes slightly, as if to say, "If you're up for it". Rosie thinks about it and then nods.

Her breath hitches as he takes a step forward until he's so close, she can feel his breath on her mouth through the cell bars. It's hot and causes a blush to rise to her face. His jacket smells like leather, horse shampoo, and some kind of pine-y cologne.

Garvan's hands cup her face, one of them fisting in the hair at the base of her neck, pulling it free of her ponytail. When he leans in, his lips are soft and warm and pillowy, nothing at all like she expected-

And nothing happens.

Rosie and Garvan pull apart, both of them feeling significantly hotter than they did a few seconds ago, and Garvan glares at the two women before taking a step back.

"Satisfied?" he growls at them.

Mayor Mills has gone pale. Her mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. "He's not her True Love," she says shakily, and Emma looks just as disturbed. "It didn't work. She doesn't remember."

"Oh God," Emma whispers. "What do we do now?"

* * *

 _ **Fighting his curse was hard.**_ Garvan had barely had time to run from the castle, steal Maximus-the-horse from the stables, and ride as far away from the castle as he could get before _it_ came back. Hans' control firmly back in place, Garvan had galloped in the general direction of the Northern Isles, where he knew King Jasper was headed.

It was around the second day of riding that he had gotten horribly lost, and the free part of him was glad for it.

He wandered. Hans hadn't ordered him to come back, and Jasper was far, far out of his reach, and his demons were silent for the moment, so, for the moment, he was at his own command.

Garvan knew he was somewhere in Mist Haven, somewhere he thought he might have been before. It was very late in the night (or very early in the morning), in that deep, impenetrable darkness just before dawn. Maximus was quiet for the moment, and had stopped trying to buck him, and there was this deep peace, this anticipation, that told Garvan something very important was coming.

The barrier was in front of him.

Garvan paused at the sight of it, and without thinking, he dismounted from Maximus and tied the horse's reigns loosely to a tree branch. He still had the boots from Rumpelstiltskin (neither he nor Jasper had quite had the courage to return to the Dark One with the news that they hadn't carved out the girl's heart), and they let him pass through the barrier with ease.

He reached the tower just as the sun began to crest over the Forest's tree tops, and moments later, a figure with incredibly long hair appeared at the window. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of him.

There was silence. _Awkward_ silence.

Garvan had never talked to a human girl before, and wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

"Hello!" he called out, wincing at the sheer volume of his own voice. He'd never spoken so loudly before. "What's your name?"

The girl hesitated, and he knew she probably thought that he was insane. But then she spoke, and it was a bit like something in the back of his head cracked.

"Rapunzel."

Jasper's words came to him with striking clarity at that moment, and it would be almost a year of coming to the tower before Garvan knew why.

 _"Find your freedom, Garvan, and come back to me."_

* * *

The station smells like coffee and rust, and the scent is a bit comforting to Rosie, although it gives her a migraine after a near six hours of it. There's no sound during that time, nothing but the ticking of a clock on the wall over the doors, and the conversations that start suddenly and end just as quickly.

It's sunset when it finally happens. Electricity passes through her in a rush, setting her veins tingling and this deep part of her stomach _jerks_. _The rush is familiar_.

Rosie gasps at the sensation, and Garvan jerks up from the cot in his cell where he was dozing off.

"What?" he asks, voice hoarse from disuse. "What is it, Rosie?"

She shakes her head, hunched over her stomach, hand clenched around her vest and school shirt.

"I don't know," she breathes, close to tears. "But it... it's _magical_."

"Magical?" Garvan shakes his head. "No. _No_. Not you too, Rosie. You're the most logical person in this town, and if you're going bonkers too-"

And then he feels it.

Through the small window in Rosie's cell, they see a cloud of purple smoke approaching the town.

Neither of them know what it is, but they have an idea, and the small parts of them that haven't been used in twenty-eight years tense in preparation.

Magic is returning to Story Brooke.

Garvan and Rosie just haven't realized it yet.

"If- if Emma and Mayor Mills were right," Rosie begins, and she's crying now, because she is very, very scared and- _Oh God, Henry was right_ \- "If we really are fairy tale characters, Garvan, then you and I-"

"I know," Garvan tells her quickly. They've moved together again, and her hand clutches at him through the cell bars. "I read Henry's book too."

"But it's awful," Rosie gasps. They haven't realized it yet, but they're sliding down to the floor, huddling close to each other, getting as close as they can with bars between them. "You were a slave and I was-"

"I know."

"But that means I lost-"

" _I know_."

She draws up sharply, staring at him with this desperation on her face that he hates. "Garvan," she whispers, and the smoke suddenly seems very, very close to them, "what do we do?"

He breathes out shakily and closes his eyes, mind whirring with stories of a cat trapped in a human body and a boy trapped by a curse.

"We get through it."

When the magic hits them, they're together.

For the first time in a very, very long time.


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Rose Red**  
 **Chapter 3: Down the Rabbit Hole**

Waking up is strange.

For the most part, she feels dizzy and disoriented. The rest of her feels like she's about to throw up, and she has a raging head ache as the magic begins to return to her.

But she remembers, and that's the important thing. She remembers who she is.

Her name is Rapunzel, and she's a Grimm. She's overthrown evil queens and imprisoned crazed sorcerers. She's enchanted wardrobes and fought bandits. She's danced with fairies and sought out lost treasure. And she's fallen in love with a cat trapped in a boy's body.

"Garvan!"

The sound comes out desperate and choked by the tears now running freely down her cheeks-

And he's here. He's here. He made it through- oh gods, he's still alive. The last she saw of him he was fighting three of The Queen's men single handedly, trying to get them away from Snow so she could have the baby-

And Emma. Emma made it through.

The Savior.

"R-Rapunzel?"

Despite the person it comes from, the sound of her own name makes her recoil. Because it isn't hers anymore. That name belongs to a different girl- one who spent most of her life locked away in a tower and lost her family and made the terrible, terrible mistake of trusting the Pied Piper.

So she says, "Rosie," and when Garvan sends her a funny look, elaborates further: "My name isn't Rapunzel anymore. It's Rosie."

And Garvan, gods bless him, doesn't ask the question she knows he wants to ask. He just smiles at her and nods. "Rosie," he says, and it's like heaven hearing it from his mouth.

If someone told her when this whole Curse business began that her reunion with Garvan would take place in a jail cell, she would have laughed in their face. And she's laughing now, but for a completely different reason.

She's laughing because they did it.

She's laughing because, sans the holding cell, they're free.

She's laughing because before the magic came back she hated Garvan, and now she's pretty sure she's in love with him.

She's laughing because when they finally kiss, after a very long twenty eight years, it's through the bars of the cell and the buttons on her vest are digging into her stomach and his lips are harsh and bruising and desperate on hers.

She's laughing because, for the first time in her life, she feels free.

* * *

 _ **Once upon a time,**_ in a land far, far away, there lived a family of wizards. They were called the Grimms, and their magic was the magic of words.

The father of the family was named Siegfried Grimm. He was the oldest of three brothers and a sister, and the most powerful Tale-Spinner the family had ever seen. His magic helped him save his beautiful wife, Odette, from the evil sorcerer Rothbart- but that is a different story entirely.

Siegfried and Odette made a home for themselves in a small harbor town at the edge of the Enchanted Forest, away from those who sought to hurt them for their magic. They lived there for many years with their three daughters and the youngest of Siegfried's siblings, Abernathy Grimm. Abernathy was only thirty, and thus, unmarried. He therefore devoted most of his time to the training and care of his three nieces: Marigold, Alice, and Rapunzel.

Alice hated his lessons.

It wasn't so much that she hated learning about magic- if anything, the opposite was true- so much as it was that she hated that she wasn't a part of these lessons.

In the clearing at the top of the hill, Marigold was busy turning wildflowers into miniature, fire-breathing dragons. It seemed to be going well, but for the fact that the serpents' wings were made of dandelion petals and didn't support them very well.

Marigold was the oldest of the three sisters, and in their parents' opinions, the best. Alice couldn't say she didn't see where they were coming from. Marigold was beautiful in a dark, willowy sort of way, with shiny, raven hair and skin so pale it seemed translucent in the sunlight. She was the smartest and the kindest, as well as the best at magic, and Alice envied her for that more than anything else.

Four-year-old Rapunzel shrieked with joy at the sight of the dragons and hopped around wildly, attempting to catch one. She received a sharp tug on a sparkling blond curl for her efforts. The shock caused one dirty, bare foot to collide with the other and she fell to the ground, immediately proceeding to burst into tears.

It took ten minutes for Marigold and Uncle Abernathy to calm her down, and by the time they had, the dragons had withered and fallen back to the ground as dead, dried-up flower husks. Rapunzel pouted and Uncle Abernathy laughed at her, lifting her around the waist and setting her down on a nearby boulder. Marigold smiled softly and gathered up her thin Spring cloak before setting off to complete her portion of the evening's chores. Alice shifted, pulling on her skirt to get into a more comfortable position from her spot in one of the heather beds.

Another few minutes passed as Uncle Abernathy attempted to gain Rapunzel's attention. The girl seemed more interested in playing with her uncle's mustache than learning magic, and Alice felt a sudden flush of resentment for her younger sister.

Rapunzel had never appreciated what she had.

"Are you ready now?" Uncle Abernathy asked in that ever-patient voice of his.

Rapunzel considered his question for a moment before nodding.

"Then close your eyes," Uncle Abernathy ordered sternly, and Alice and Rapunzel immediately obeyed. "Now grip your quill very tightly. As you write, I want you to visualize the words. To feel them. Truly consider their meaning and the effect you want from them. Write this down:

" _Candle shining in the night_

 _With your flame enchanted,_

 _By the powers of magic might_

 _May my wish be granted._

 _When the candle sheds its gleam_

 _At the mystic hour,_

 _Let the fulfillment of my dream_

 _Gather secret power._

 _Flame of magic, brightly burn,_

 _Spirit of the fire._

 _Let the wheels of fortune turn,_

 _Grant me my desire._

 _One, two, three- so mote it be!"_

The effect was immediate for Rapunzel. A cloud of sparks erupted from the piece of parchment she was holding, and the flame quickly sizzled the paper to a crisp. The small tendrils of smoke climbed into the darkening sky, carrying Rapunzel's wish with it. To the child's credit, she didn't scream, only flinched and watched in amazement at what her words had done.

Alice was not so lucky.

There was no change in her paper, no spark, no smoke, not even that tingling in her lower stomach that Marigold always talked about.

Nothing. There was nothing.

Alice scowled and curled her tanned, work-roughened fingers around the parchment, crumpling it into a ball, and resisted the urge to throw it far away from her. That would alert Rapunzel and Uncle Abernathy to her position, and she didn't want Mother chiding her for spying on the magic lessons again. That would make it the third time this week, and she would be assigned even more chores as punishment.

Still wearing her scowl, Alice crawled backwards on hands and knees, wiggling her way out of the underbrush of the clearing and into the thick woods, finally straightening up and brushing off her apron. With a heavy sigh, she smoothed down her hair and retied the black ribbon holding it away from her freckled face. Next came the basket full of firewood she was supposed to be collecting. Once a month she spent hours piling it up so she wouldn't have to scour the woods for it later and could simply select a few sticks from the top and spend the rest of the hour learning magic.

With basket in hand and quill tucked securely into the pocket of her apron, Alice reentered the clearing, this time with a fake, work-wearied smile on her face. Uncle Abernathy grinned at the sight of her, the green eyes- the ones she had inherited from him and her father- sparkling at her.

"Hullo, my love," Uncle Abernathy chirped at her, Rapunzel waving cheerily from behind him. "Successful day of work?"

Alice just sucked on her bottom lip and nodded, trotting out of the clearing and down the hill, through the sparse apple orchard and to the house. She collided with Marigold on her way, and as the two crouched down to gather Alice's spilled firewood, she saw the expression on her sister's face.

Marigold had seen her in the clearing.

"Nothing?" the older girl asked, searching Alice's face for a hint of good news.

Alice scowled again and shook her head. "Nothing."

Marigold frowned in that thoughtful, selfless way of hers, and Alice wanted to hate her but couldn't. Marigold was twenty three, and wise beyond her years. She was very quiet most of the time, but when she spoke, she could sound like one of the great poets if she wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Marigold began, but Alice really didn't want to hear it.

"So am I," the younger girl said dismissively, and set off for the house again.

The Grimms had taken up residence in a large, two-storied cottage at the edge of their small village, on a slight incline. From the room Alice shared with Marigold she could see the harbor, and that was her favorite thing about the place she lived in. She had always wanted to see the cities and castles her mother told her about sometimes, but safety overrode want, and large crowds of people never meant good things for those with magic in their blood.

Alice bumped the front door open with her hip, skirts swishing around her knees. She placed the basket of firewood on the floor and slipped off her shawl in the same movement, calling out, "Mother, I'm home!"

There was no answer. "Mother?" She frowned, sniffing the air curiously.

Something was wrong. Odette Grimm was nothing if not the most caring person Alice knew. Marigold had inherited both her beauty, and her kindness. Their mother knew their schedules like the back of her hand, and always, always had something cooking when they returned from a hard day of work. But there was nothing baking in the oven, no pies left on the windowsill to cool, and nothing simmering in the cauldron over the fireplace.

In fact, when Alice shouldered her way into the kitchen, it was to see ingredients for supper lying abandoned across the room, a path of destruction and mess leading up the stairs and into her parents' bedroom. Alice screamed when she opened the door.

Because there was Odette, lying dead in a pool of her own blood.

And there was a man with the skin of a crocodile, standing over her mother, heart in hand.

The man grinned at Alice, almost giddily. "Oh, dearie me," he cooed. "This complicates things, doesn't it?"

* * *

A while goes by before they stop kissing, and when they do, it's only because Rosie is really starting to notice how uncomfortable their position is, and the fact that they're still locked in a jail cell, and also the fact that they haven't _really_ seen their friends and, in Garvan's case, family in around twenty eight years- Also, Rosie isn't completely sure that Henry isn't still dying yet, and that's a huge thing with her.

So she pushes Garvan back as well as she can with the bars between them and he's staring at her with those half-lidded, glassy eyes- and maybe it won't hurt for just a few more minutes because Chap stick wasn't a thing in the Enchanted Forest and Garvan's lips are the softest they've ever been and he's gotten _a lot better at kissing_ -

Rosie shakes her head, gasping for breath, and flushes as she wipes at her mouth. She's still shy about intimacy. That much hasn't changed, at least.

"Garvan," she says, then smooths thick hair away from her face and says it again: "Garvan. We need to get out of here."

Because they have responsibilities. She remembers. They're actually a _part of a government_. She's official Tale-Spinner of Myst Haven, and he's Crown Prince of the Northern Isles. No more lazing the days away at Clara's or Lottie's or Granny's. No more studying at Melody's or walking Henry to therapy sessions or skipping class to eat pizza behind the bleachers or sneaking out from under Ingrid's watchful eye for one of Naveen's parties.

Her eyes start watering then, because she's really going to miss being carefree, and she's really going to miss the not having nightmares and the not knowing about how she's lost Mother and Father and Uncle Abernathy and Alice and Mary-

Shit. Rosie rubs at her eyes and tugs at her hair again. No crying. She's had more than enough crying for one lifetime. She knows from experience that it doesn't do much good.

Garvan nods and clears his throat, blushing a little. "Sure," he says, "let me just transform."

And he does. The orange cat grins cheekily at her before slipping through the bars and turning back into the boy she knows and loves. He shudders slightly, brushing fur off of his leather jacket, and then frowns. "Haven't done that in a while. And why the hell did I wear this jacket all the damn time?"

Rosie can't hold back a giggle as Garvan shrugs out of his jacket- the one she's never seen him without before in this world- and drops it unceremoniously into the waste basket underneath Emma's desk. He pulls one of the drawers open and yanks out the key ring, unlocking the door to Rosie's cell and tugging her into another kiss almost immediately.

She laughs into his mouth, nipping at his lower lip, before pulling away again and trying her hardest to straighten herself out. Rosie hasn't looked so disheveled since the Enchanted Forest. She frowns at the reminder and immediately goes about trying to kick her shoes off, remembering how much she hates constrictive footwear in general.

Garvan presses his hand over hers. "Stop that," he tells her. "It's like thirty degrees outside, Punzie. I just got you back. I don't want to lose you to frostbite."

Rosie scowls at him. She hates being told what to do, but he has a point. This isn't Myst Haven, all thick grass and cobblestone roads. This is Story Brooke, with asphalt and dirty sidewalks and near-constant winter.

It's kind of like that town from _Twilight_ , only with less sparkly vampires.

So Rosie leaves her heeled ankle boots on, only with a little grumbling, and they make their way out of the sheriff station, Garvan having grabbed an extra Glock from the wall and Rosie a pen from Emma's desk, just in case.

The town has... changed. Rosie can't describe it, the same way she can't describe the changes in Alice after their mother died. It's just... different. There's this kind of tingling in the air that signals the return of magic and the return of memory and the return of _truth._

"Garvan! Rapunzel!"

Rosie's eye twitches when she hears the name, but even that doesn't diminish how happy she is to really _see_ Ruby for the first time in a long, long time. Ruby and Rosie embrace immediately, so hard the breath is knocked out of Rosie, and when they finally pull back, Ruby is crying a little.

They were close, back in the Enchanted Forest. Ruby reminded Rapunzel of her sisters- with Alice's penchant for mischief and Marigold's dark brown, almost black hair and warm, coffee eyes- and Rapunzel and Snow served as the best friends Ruby had never had back in her home village. Even if they hadn't known about the wolf back then, Ruby's village always felt there was something off about her, always kept their distance. Snow and Rapunzel are the first ones to ever really treat her as a normal girl, and Ruby loves both of them very dearly for that.

Ruby pulls back, hands still on Rosie's shoulders, and it's so, _so good_ to see her-

"You need to hide."

What?

Rosie opens her mouth to ask the question, but Ruby sees it on her face before she can and answers; "The townspeople are rioting, turning against Regina for the Curse. I'm worried they might lash out at you for your magic."

Rosie pales, and it's Garvan who nods in understanding and grabs her by the arm. It's not like she blames the others, she thinks as Garvan and Ruby confer about safe places and Garvan dashes through the streets with her in tow. Regina _did_ rip them away from their lives and, more often than not, their families. And she has killed more people than Rosie can count, so yeah, if Regina's going to get lynched, she kind of sort of deserves it.

But still. Rosie thought...

Well, she thought there would be more of a reunion when she and Garvan and all the others finally came back to themselves. She thought their bond was strong and they've been through so much together that they should be overwhelmingly excited to see each other-

But at the same time, she understands, she really does.

Snow and Charming (and even Ruby and the dwarves, for that matter) have always been so, so serious. It just makes the happy, carefree moments with them that much more important.

Garvan and Rosie go to Clara's house. By their reasoning, it's the only safe, non-obvious choice for them. Garvan's and Rosie's respective homes are the first place the rioters would look, and everyone knows Rosie lived with the Hoppers while she was fighting with Ingrid-

And oh God, Ingrid. _Ingrid_.

Rosie pauses in the middle of Clara's living room as her friends chatter and cry and hug around her.

She can't remember Ingrid.

Not like _that_. She knows who Ingrid is- her sister. In this world, at least. But she can't recall ever encountering her back in that other world.

She remembers all the others- barring Melody, but there's a good reason for that.

Naveen was one of the many neighboring royals who helped with the revolution, along with Tianna, his cook-turned-royal consort, and Lottie, a lady of Maldonia with a penchant for archery and poofy dresses. Naveen was the frog prince and Tianna his princess, and Rosie and Garvan spend a lot of time with the three of them, recalling bonfires and banjos and battles and bad jokes.

Clara's story is one Rosie won't forget very soon. She's another princess, and it's easy to tell in the grace of her walk and the way she holds her head high, and another victim of the Spell of Eternal Sleep and of an unpaid debt to Rumpelstiltskin. Her dream skape is one different to all the others Rosie has heard about. Clara's years were spent trapped in a place called the Kingdom of Sweets, with an evil king who could turn into a rat and a Nutcracker who could turn into her one true love, Preston Hugo himself. Their reunion is a teary one, one that Rosie is glad she gets to witness, and the rest of the group takes strides to let the couple have some much-earned alone time.

Cormac is a pirate, which makes Rosie respectively weary of him, after her experiences with Captain Killian Jones, but she knows Cormac and he was part of Sinbad's crew, not Hook's, so she can't bring herself to fear him. But at the same time, she can't really bring herself to listen very closely when he tells the others about his treasure-hunting adventures, either.

Melody's story is the strangest and the simplest and the saddest, and Rosie is the only one who gets the full version of it when Melody whispers in her ear that first night after all the others have fallen asleep and the two are curled up on one of the leather couches in Clara's living room.

Melody was a street urchin back in Myst Haven, living in the alleys and nooks and crannies of the capital, and made a small living selling matchsticks to the few kind souls still living in the Queen's kingdom. The only reason Regina had even taken notice of her was because of her friendship with Graham the Huntsman and because of the fact that Melody had fallen in love with Cormac when he had been captured by the Queen's men (not that Cormac knew it yet, the thick-skulled idiot), and had done everything in her power to break him out of the castle dungeons.

The next few days are quiet, tense ones. On the second day there, Clara's uncle comes home. There's another tearful reunion and Rosie misses Ingrid and the rest of her family all the more in that moment. She misses them so bad it hurts, and Melody, gods bless her, notices and takes her hand in a silent show of support.

Mr. Drosslemier brings with him news of everything that's happening outside. The town really has revolted against Regina- against all magic, really. Blue and the rest of the fairies have boarded themselves into the convent.

Lottie's dad shows up the next day, with a rumpled-looking Doctor Hopper in tow. Then it's Ingrid and Garvan's Uncle Jasper the next, and Rosie lets herself cry for the first time since the magic came back. According to Jasper there's a wraith on the loose, and it's after Regina. Rosie would feel bad for the Evil Queen, but then she remembers that she hates her so the bad feeling goes away rather quickly.

That's the last day of semi-peace that they're going to have in a long time, and Rosie doesn't know it yet, but she feels it, deep inside.

Maybe that's why she sneaks out of Clara's room that night and down the the living room, where the boys are sleeping.

Maybe that's why she wakes Garvan softly and the two slip out onto the sun porch and curl up together on one of the patio benches.

Maybe that's why, just as they drift off into sleep, she leans over and whispers in his ear, "I love you."

* * *

 _ **Alice stared at the crocodile-skinned man**_ for several moments in open-mouthed shock.

He- He killed Odette. He killed _her mother_. Alice should be screaming- she should be running for her father and her Uncle and her older sister. She should be crying and sobbing and trying to save her mother and cursing the gods and tearing at her dress-

Instead, she stared at the man and asked, "Why?"

"Beg pardon?" The man glanced at her, amused, and pocketed her mother's heart. Alice's eyes followed the action like a hawk.

"Why did you-?" Alice swallowed hard. "Why did you kill her? What did you do to her?"

And the man laughed at her.

 _Laughed at her_.

"Oh heavens, dearie!" he chortled. "It isn't what _I_ did to her. It's what _you_ did to her!"

"Wha-" Alice couldn't get the words out. She was choking on them. "What do you mean?"

"Oh?" If it was possible, the man looked even more delighted. "She never told you?"

No, she hadn't. Alice didn't know if this man was telling the truth or not, but either way, his words were knives in her chest. Each one struck her harder and harder until she was kneeling next to her mother's body, crying soundless, acheing tears.

The man tutted and sunk down so he was crouched over Alice, looking her in the eye. "Your mother never told you that she was the reason you don't have magic?"

"You're lying," Alice answered, almost instinctively. "My mother had no control over that! She had-"

But the crocodile-skinned man just kept staring at her, and grinning, and her mother was still dead, and Alice asked him, "How?"

He chortled. "Allow me to introduce myself, dearie," he told her with the kind of elaborate bow no one in Alice's small harbor town would ever think to perform. "My name is Rumpelstiltskin, and I'm the Dark One. Your mother made a deal with the previous owner of my position"- he grinned at her, teeth sharp and pointy- "a deal that she could not keep. She promised a feather in exchange for a magic-less child, and obviously, did not pay her debt. As I am rather inclined to hate your family, I've decided to collect."

Burning.

Alice was burning.

Thoughts were twining together and unraveling just as quickly, like threads on a spindle. Nothing was coherent, the words Alice treasured so dearly abandoning her when she needed them most.

Mother.

The reason why she had no powers- that had been mother. Mother had _wanted_ this for Alice. She had _wanted_ Alice to feel so alone- to feel so out of place. She had wanted Alice to experience Marigold's pitying looks and Rapunzel's innocent questions of "why can't Alice do that?" and Uncle Abernathy's softness and her father's contempt. Mother had wanted Alice to be like this. She had wanted Alice to be the outsider. It was too dangerous for her to attempt to control magic, and it was too dangerous for her to attempt to be a normal girl.

Mother.

But Odette was dead.

And Alice, as helpless as she was confused, managed to find clarity long enough to ask, "What would I have to do for you to give me back my magic?"

* * *

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit fuck shit fuck shit _fuck shit fuck- FUCKING SHIT-!_

Regina is an idiot, Rosie thinks on day four of Memory Return. Dr. Whale is an idiot. (And who the hell is he, anyway?) Snow and Charming and Emma are idiots.

And Rosie is an idiot, too, because she knows deep down in her heart that she'll end up saying yes to their stupid scheme.

In shorter terms, Snow and the rest of her Scooby Doo gang have already managed to make their new world shit within the first week they've been knowingly living in it:

Regina is being chased by a wraith who is trying to steal her soul (stupid Regina, stupid Dr. Whale, _stupid wraith for existing-_!).

Snow and Charming, despite the fact that Regina separated them from their daughter and grandson, ripped their lives apart, tried to destroy them multiple times, and forced them apart for twenty eight years, are convinced that saving her is the right thing to do. (Why is Rosie friends with them, again?)

Emma has come up with a plan to send the wraith back to the Enchanted Forest, but to do that, she needs Jefferson/ The Mad Hatter's (honestly, Rosie should have seen that one coming a mile off) hat, which apparently works as a portal between dimensions.

Rosie, for some reason, thought it would be a bright idea to take the hat with her (she's so stupid, she's so stupid, she's _so stupid_ ) after her and Emma's stay with Jefferson and Mary Margaret in hell, so now Snow and co. need her and her magic to get the wraith the hell away from them and save Regina.

Emma is the one who tells her the state of the union, and Rosie stares at nothing for a good five minutes afterwards, blinking, trying to figure out when she got so dumb and why her life always has to be so God damn complicated.

"Um," Rosie says slowly, painstakingly aware that every single person in Clara's living room is staring at her, "I don't exactly have the hat with me at the moment."

Emma lets a pinch-lipped smile slip across her face for a brief moment before nodding and getting to her feet. "Then come on. We'll pick it up from your house before heading over to city hall."

Rosie wants to say that she hasn't agreed yet, and she wants to say that she _doesn't want to agree_ because she still kind of really hates Regina, and she wants to say that Ingrid won't let her go off and do something dangerous like this. But, surprisingly enough, she doesn't, and Ingrid is remarkably silent and agreeable as Rosie follows Emma out the door, Garvan trailing along after them.

The town is eerily silent as they make their way through it. Rosie doesn't know what it is she was expecting- certainly not the cheery, song-singing villagers from the other world- but she at least thought there would be more than this. The entire time she was at Clara's she was thinking there would be tearful reunions in the streets or at least _some_ people in the streets. But they were empty.

There was no one.

Coming back to the townhouse is odd. Back in the Enchanted Forest, Rosie lived in picturesque cottages, ivory towers and shining castles. Ever since her memories have come back, she's been holed up in the Drosslemiers' chic English-style manor. But Rosie and Ingrid's townhouse is small- two bedroom, two bath. All of the furniture is secondhand, purchased from Mr. Gold's Pawn and Antiquities, and almost every surface is covered in novels, newspapers, and sketch books.

It's disquietingly empty, too. According to Ingrid, Paschal is with Pongo and Maximus at Charming's house in his very capable hands. The home is quiet without the grumpy golden retriever, and especially without Ingrid bustling around in the kitchen, making tea or an ice cream sundae.

Jefferson's hat is exactly where Rosie left it, shoved underneath her bed. She hasn't touched it since the night she put it there, but she's certainly thought about it enough.

Garvan leaves the room, and Rosie takes the opportunity to change out of the clothes she's been wearing for the past four days. She grabs her favorite pen from her desk as an afterthought before pulling on her boots and rushing back downstairs. Emma tells her they'll probably be needing Rosie's magic to get the hat working again.

They go to the town hall, where Snow, Charming, Rumpelstiltskin, and Regina are apparently hiding. The walk is a quiet one. Garvan's hand finds its way into Rosie's somewhere along the way. It's comforting, considering who, exactly, they're going to be facing once they reach their destination. Who, exactly, they'll be risking their lives to save.

Rosie's opinion of the Evil Queen hasn't changed much since the last time she saw her and actually knew who she was. For the duration of the Curse, Rosie was always kind of intimidated by Mayor Mills, considering she was her boss and all. But Rosie had also always thought that anyone who had raised Henry couldn't be that bad, right?

Gods, was she wrong.

"Where's Henry been all this time, anyway?" she thinks to ask.

Emma pauses and then shrugs before continuing down Main Street again. "A lot of places," she answers vaguely. "He's staying with me an- and Mary Margaret right now, though."

Emma doesn't trust her, Rosie realizes. She doesn't really blame her, although she starts to feel like the sky is caving in on her again.

Magic does that to people sometimes: puts them on edge, makes them distrustful and violent. Rosie knows this better than almost anyone.

The moment they push through the thick double doors of the newly-rebuilt town hall, they're attacked by the sword-swinging maniac known fondly as Prince Charming. Garvan responds instinctively, shoving Rosie behind him and parrying Charming's thrust with the back of the Glock he's been carrying around with him since the Curse broke. He pushes Charming back with his force until Charming releases and dodges, causing Garvan to fall forward before re balancing himself with a pivot of his ankle and shoving the Glock back into his belt.

The two men grin at each other before embracing.

"Garvan!" Charming cries, smacking the flat of his palm against the boy's back. "It's good to see you- no one had heard from you or your father in days. We were starting to get worried."

Garvan smiles and shrugs, nonplussed, pulling away and brushing a gingery strand of hair out of his eyes. "Ruby told us the people were rioting over magic. I figured it would be best for me and Rosie to stay low for a while," he explains, causing Charming's attention to shift in Rosie's direction.

Charming's face lights up with that shit-eating grin she hasn't seen since he found out Snow was pregnant. The next thing Rosie knows she's being crushed into his arms and swept right off of her feet, and it's like she's coming home again.

Snow and Charming have always reminded Rosie of her family. Snow is like Marigold, in her quiet strength and in her wide-sweeping smiles and even in her dark, waifish looks. But Charming reminds Rosie of her much-beloved Uncle Abernathy, and maybe that is why his hugs warm her like no one else's.

She laughs into his shoulder and squeezes back as hard as she can, careful not to break the pen she's holding, less she splatter ink all over the both of them. "Missed you too, Charming," Rosie mutters.

He grins again as he sets her down, and Rosie straightens out her skirt as he and Emma confer with Garvan before they walk through the dark, eerily silent lobby of the city hall. Rosie knows wearing a skirt when she's about to battle a wraith probably isn't the best idea, but she remembers not liking pants very much back in the Enchanted Forest, when she only wore them during battles, and she also remembers wearing a lot of skirts to school in this world. She dislikes pants for the same reason she dislikes shoes- they're too confining. And while she knows skirts and barefeet aren't practical, they make her more comfortable.

Snow is waiting for them in the council room, and she and Rosie hug, but there aren't any of the tears Rosie was quasi-expecting. She understands, though. Snow is in that mode she gets into when there's evil to be vanquished, adventure to be had, or- in this case- wraiths to be destroyed and queens to be saved.

Regina is standing on the pulpit of the room, between two floor-to-ceiling windows. Rosie scowls, balls her hands into fists, strides across the floor, largely ignoring Rumpelstiltskin, and slaps the Evil Queen soundly across the face.

"Let me be perfectly clear," Rosie says, making sure to enunciate every syllable as precisely as she can. She wants so very, very badly to be cold and detached- to treat Regina like she was treated in the tower. But she hates too much and too deeply and it's _burning_ in her words. "I am not doing this because I care about you. Frankly, I would love to see you get dragged to hell. If I had my way, you would be. I am only doing this because Snow and Charming asked me to, and because I love them. But I _hate_ you. You are the biggest _bitch_ -"

"Rapunzel."

It's Snow. (Of course, _of course it's Snow._ She is the only one allowed to feel hatred for the Queen after all. Gods forbid anyone else show any emotion or seek any revenge-) Rosie shakes her head and jerks away from the comforting hand that's been laid on her shoulder and swallows down the lump in her throat.

"Rosie," she corrects softly, not looking at Regina's face, sticking her fisted hands in the pockets of her coat. "I'd like to be Rosie now, if that's okay."

Snow just stares at her for a moment, eyes softening at the edges, before nodding. She understands, sees a little of herself in Rosie. It makes Rosie feel like the child she's not allowed to be, and she hates it.

Garvan's hand coaxes hers out of her pocket, and he squeezes it, hard. He's not looking at her, talking strategy with Charming, Emma, and a gleeful-looking Rumpelstiltskin (Rosie shudders when he catches her eye- it worked. He knew this whole time). The gesture is a nice one, though, and it warms her.

Rosie rolls her shoulders back to compose herself before walking toward Snow and Regina again ( _hate, hate, hate_ ), and setting Jefferson's ( _hate, hate, hate_ ) hat down on the marble floor, right over the Story Brooke crest.

"So what's the plan?" she asks Snow, trying to pretend that Regina isn't just standing there staring at her- _Why hasn't she said anything to me yet?_

Snow stares at her again and Rosie wants to scream. This isn't how things are supposed to be. They're supposed to be hugging each other and drinking with the dwarves and giggling with Ruby and singing along with Naveen's banjo and watching Clara dance like gravity doesn't affect her.

But as usual, there's something in the way. That something, this time around, is a wraith. And also as usual, Rosie does what Snow tells her to do, even though she isn't quite sure opening a portal through the hat is such a good idea right now. She hasn't used her magic in a long, _long_ time, and it's volatile. Such a huge spell so early in the game isn't a good idea, and she can practically hear Uncle Abernathy's voice telling her not to do it- that she'll be unleashing something she can't control.

If he were alive, he would be right.

When the wraith comes, the plan works, but then everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Yes, the wraith is dragged into oblivion, and yes, the threat is destroyed.

But the magic is too much for Rosie to handle this soon, and she's dragged along with it. Snow reaches out to save her, only to be sucked in herself, and Emma, refusing to lose her mother once again, follows suit.

When the darkness and the magic clears, Regina, Charming, Rumpelstiltskin, and Garvan are left behind with nothing but a singed top hat and a busted pen.

* * *

 _ **Captain Killian Jones'**_ hand hurt. This should be impossible, as he no longer had a hand that could hurt, but damn it all if it did, and it hurt bad.

Smee called this a "phantom pain". Killian squashed Smee's cap over his eyes and called it bloody stupid. Then he swallowed about two pints of rum and it hurt a little bit less and he could go back to pirating and plundering and other such rouge-ish activities that did not involve thinking about Milah or her son's face when he watched his mother die, thank you very kindly and good day.

It had been a little over a year since Milah and since the crocodile who had killed her, and Killian was now known throughout the seas as Captain Hook. The pirating business suited him, he had discovered, and he rather enjoyed the adventuring aspect of it. The actual captaining was a good bit harder than he had thought it would be, however.

A ship needed its crew, and a crew needed supplies, and to get those supplies, Killian needed either a loaded trade ship or a fat wad of cash. Getting said things was usually never much of an issue for him, as he was, after all, a pirate, and thus had no qualms with stealing from others. This time around, however, he had been at a bit of an impasse as to what to do.

The problem was, where they were going, there wasn't much of an abundance of trade ships, treasure boxes, fruit trees, or supplies in general. From what he had heard, the journey to Never land was a long, barren one, and Killian needed food and water for his crew to make it. And to get said food and water, he needed money.

Before they could plunder some poor, unsuspecting harbor town, the queen of Myst Haven had contacted them, and given them a job.

Which was how Killian ended up in previously mentioned poor, unsuspecting harbor town.

He was hunting, and he was hunting Grimms.

Why The Queen needed one, Killian didn't know and didn't care. All he knew was that it was his job to get one, and rumor had it the family had built a home for themselves here. How he felt about kidnapping was completely irrelevant.

And it most certainly was not the reason why he had sought out the nearest bar the minute he and the crew had reached the village and immediately proceeded to drown his sorrows in tumbler after tumbler of unfiltered rum.

And then she came- so much like Milah with those sad, bright green eyes and the upturn of her nose- and joked with him. Killian enjoyed the girl almost as much as he enjoyed his rum, and the two comforted each other for hours. And somehow, Killian found himself confessing his sins to her- all of them; letting his brother die, the pirating, the guilt he felt over Milah's death and the look in her son's eyes when she was killed. And the girl, in turn, told him of her mother's recent passing and the neglect of her broken family.

It was nearly the crack of dawn when they finally parted, sobered by their tears, and as the girl fastened a black cloak around the neck of her equally black mourning dress, Killian thought to finally ask her for her name.

"Alice," she replied with a sad smirk over her shoulder. "Alice Grimm."

And all Killian could think as she disappeared into the streets was that it seemed he was due for a lot more heart ache yet.

* * *

When Rosie finally, fully wakes up, she knows almost exactly where she is. She's been in and out of consciousness for days now, Snow and Emma overwhelmingly concerned for her, and the throes of the fever rocking her through being captured by Mulan and Aurora in the ruins of the castle and the long trudge to the base camp. But when Rosie's eyes finally open and stay open, at the bottom of the pit, she can sense the magic in the air and knows immediately that they are in the Enchanted Forest.

And then her head starts to feel like someone's pounding on it with an anvil.

"Dear gods up above," Rosie groans as she struggles into a sitting position, "what _happened_ to my _head_?"

"I think Mulan's horse might have kicked it on the way here," Emma's voice says from a spot leaning against a dirt wall. "But I'm not entirely sure."

"And where, exactly, is here?" Rosie asks, looking in Snow's direction, just a little annoyed. Really? She's had her memories back for less than a week and they're already trapped in the Enchanted Forest?

Snow just shakes her head and bites her lip pointedly. "That's a long story."

And it is. The fact that Myst Haven has been overrun with the same ogres who killed her father certainly doesn't sit well with Rosie, and the fact that they're being held hostage in the only human stronghold- by _Lancelot,_ of all people- only compounds the ill feeling in her stomach. That he says it's for their own protection doesn't help, either. So when Snow and Emma tell her about their brief encounter with Regina's apparently-evil mother, Cora, Rosie can't say she's very surprised.

She frowns from her spot on the floor and rests her chin on her knees. Snow is kneeling over her, tending to the scrapes on her legs, revealed by the rips in her stockings. Lancelot has left them bandages and such, along with nice-ish cots and canteens of water, but they're still imprisoned, and Rosie feels a bit like she's suffocating again.

"But why?" she says, wincing as Snow cleans out her scrapes, so much like Ingrid and Marigold and Alice. "Why is Lancelot keeping us here? He's pledged to your protection, Snow. He should be helping us get home."

"That's what he thinks he's doing," Emma says as she takes a half-hearted swig from one of the canteens. "Protecting her, I mean. He thinks the world outside is too dangerous for the queen right now" -Emma rolls her eyes here- "and since he knows we'll be gone the first chance we get, he's holding us prisoner for now."

The saddest part is, that legitimately sounds like something Lancelot would do. He's always been so cautious- so conscientious- of his queen, and Rosie thinks that stems a little bit from whatever happened with that Guinevere woman- the queen he's mentioned to her a few times but has never gone into detail about. So Rosie understands a little, as she generally understands most things, but she's still upset about the way Lancelot is treating them, and she's still upset about not being able to see him after so many years apart.

And then suddenly, someone is dropping down into the pit with them.

Emma and Snow are on the defensive immediately, despite the fact that neither of them have their weapons with them at the moment. The woman who drops into the pit is one Rosie thinks she may have seen before, in that magic-fever-induced-haze she's been in for the better part of the week. The woman is beautiful and lithe, with spry muscles and beautiful, shining raven hair. She's quickly followed by another woman in a tattered purple dress.

"Mulan," Emma says, setting down the pillow she was going to use to defend herself. "Aurora. What are you doing here?"

Mulan scowls unhappily before throwing down a linen rucksack and letting it unfold before them. Rosie is only a little shocked to see it filled with weapons.

"Getting you out of here," Mulan tells them.

"Why?" Rosie asks. Mulan and Aurora are both shooting her that _Who the hell is this kid?_ look she's used to getting in the Enchanted Forest, but she doesn't really care. "You're the ones who got us into this mess, why are you trying to get us out?"

Mulan and Aurora exchange a glance that does nothing to soothe Rosie's plenty-frayed nerves.

"Lancelot isn't acting like himself," Mulan answers simply. She glances pointedly at the selection of weapons spread out at her feet. "Pick one."

And despite the fact that Mulan hasn't really answered their questions yet, they do. Emma grabs her Glock- how Mulan got a hold of it, she isn't sure she wants to know- and a simple-looking dagger made of iron and steel. Snow, with that cheeky grin Rosie has missed so much, loads herself up with a rosemary-wood bow and a quiver of arrows, along with a long sword and two hunting knives, one tucked into each boot.

"You need a weapon," she tells Rosie, strapping on a pair of arm bracers.

Rosie shakes her head and pulls a handful of pens out of her coat pocket. "These are all I need."

Snow and Mulan frown at her at the same time.

"The Enchanted Forest has changed since last your were here, Grimm," Mulan tells her. "Your magic won't be enough to protect you from the ogres."

Rosie flinches at that. Mulan doesn't know about her father- _can't_ know about her father. No one does. Not even Snow and Ruby and Garvan. But the way Mulan says it, it's almost like she does- like it's a direct hit at Rosie's heart.

So Rosie scowls, but she nods, too, and after a little hesitation, picks up the smallest knife from the selection.

Snow just shakes her head at her, a rueful grin on her face, and hands Rosie a slender rapier, as well. That Rosie doesn't know how to fight with a sword is irrelevant. She'll learn in time.

And then, as it tends to when Snow and Rosie are in the same vicinity, the world goes to hell in a hand basket.

* * *

 _ **When the ogres attacked the town,**_ Alice thanked the gods. It was the perfect wake up call for her family. They had sunk into a kind of depression in the four months after Mother's death. Alice hadn't yet told them how Mother had died, and she thought that might have made it worse.

Uncle Abernathy was quiet, smiling less and not teasing them at all. Marigold rarely talked anymore, and when she did, it was to mother Alice and Rapunzel and take care of them the way their guardians were supposed to be doing but weren't. Rapunzel hadn't changed much- was too young to really understand what was happening- but she was confused and wary, now. So unlike the rambunctious ball of energy they were so used to. Father was heartbroken. He'd hardly said a word to any of them after finding Mother's body, and spent most of his time outside of the house, away from his family. And Alice, who was closer with him than either of her siblings, was destroyed.

But now, as their town was under siege by monsters and as the Grimms were the only ones with half a chance of fighting them, the family had come alive again.

Uncle Abernathy and Father's eyes were alight with adrenaline, and Marigold- though you could never really tell with her- seemed to have an undercurrent of energy running beneath her usual serene exterior.

"We're going," Father called simply over his shoulder as he fastened his trusty saber onto his hip. "Watch Rapunzel, Alice."

And then the three of them were off. Alice almost told them then- almost told them that she could help them, now. That she had _magic,_ now. But she didn't, and maybe she should have.

Rapunzel would be fine on her own, Alice decided after a few tense hours of listening to the battle from the cold cellar beneath the house. The four year old had recently started learning defensive spells, and would be able to protect herself for a few minutes while Alice just made sure their family was okay.

They weren't.

When Alice reached the clearing where the battle was taking place, the Grimm trio was in ruins. Marigold was splayed out unconscious on the grassy knoll, her dark hair stained darker still by the crimson blood dripping from a wound to her head. Uncle Abernathy was pinned to a tree trunk by a boil-full, enlarged ogre's hand. Father was the only one on his feet and fighting, and he screamed when he saw her.

"Alice! What are you doing here?" He barely managed to dodge a batting hand. "Go back to Rapunzel!"

"I can help!" she insisted, picking up her skirts and running towards him- He wasn't paying attention, too distracted by the ogre currently trying to kill him, but he _started_ paying attention when Alice whipped her pen out and slashed one of the monster's arms off without even saying a word.

Father stared at her, stunned, sword dangling uncertainly from limp hands. "A-Alice..."

There was question in his voice, and Alice beamed at him proudly, not noticing the other hand coming her way-

And then there was pain and darkness and _red_ spraying across her eyes-

When she came to, it was over.

All four Grimms were sprawled out in the clearing, their blood mixing in the grass and the ogre nowhere in sight. Marigold was alive- Alice could just barely make out the rise and fall of her chest, but she was unsure of Uncle Abernathy. And Father-

"Father," she whispered.

He was dead.

Alice knew it. There wasn't a puddle of blood beneath him, like there had been with Mother, or any noticeably fatal injuries, but Alice could feel it. His body was hollow and empty and cold- completely depleted of magic. He must have used the last of it to defeat the ogre, in the kind of move Uncle Abernathy had always warned them of.

Alice didn't cry. She hadn't cried over Mother, and she had loved her more, so why should she cry over Father?

When Rumpelstiltskin appeared before her a few moments later, Alice was strangely calm. "I suppose you're here so I may pay my debt, right?" she murmured.

The deal, made so long ago next to Odette Grimm's dead body, was a simple one: Rumpelstiltskin would give Alice back the magic he had taken from her, and in return, she would give him the hearts of three Grimms.

The first had come from Odette, and the second, Alice was assuming would come from Siegfried.

Rumpelstiltskin hummed an agreement and nodded his head at Siegfried's corpse. With practically no hesitation, Alice let the magic heat up around her palm and reached into her father's chest, tugging out his heart and handing it to the Dark One without even looking. Rumpelstiltskin pocketed the heart.

"Well then, dearie," he said with a sigh, "I suppose it's time then."

Alice's head snapped up and she stared at him in concern. "Time for what?"

"For me to take the magic back, of course," he told her, eyes wide and innocent as if he _hadn't_ asked her to do so many horrible deeds. "You've given me two hearts so far- which is enough for me to not take your life- but I'm afraid that I'm owed three, and your time is almost up, dearie-"

"Then I'll get you three!" Alice interrupted, springing to her feet. _Can't go back. Can't lose the magic. Can't be useless again_. "I just need a little more time."

"Ah, and there's the rub." Rumpelstiltskin clucked his tongue, waving his hands nonchalantly through the air. "You don't have any more time, dearie. Unless, of course-"

"Unless I what?" Alice replied impatiently.

"Well." Rumpelstiltskin smiled, as though he had been expecting this situation all along. "There seem to be two Grimm hearts in this very clearing, dearie. Easy pickings, I'd say."

"No," was Alice's automatic reaction. "I couldn't- They're still _alive_ , Dark One!"

"So was your mother when I ripped hers out!" he snarled at her, mouth morphing into one from her nightmares- all fangs and yellowed teeth.

His reaction gave Alice pause.

 _Uncle Abernathy is close to death anyways,_ that little voice in the back of her head whispered. _He'd welcome it, at this point. You'd be doing him a kindness_.

Alice said nothing. Thought almost nothing- nothing perceptible, at least.

There was one choice left to make, and both Dark One and Tale-Spinner knew what the outcome would be.

Alice reached down, brought her magic to the forefront of her palms, and tore Uncle Abernathy's still-beating heart right out of his chest.

"There," she whispered, as Rumpelstiltskin sequestered it away with something akin to glee on his face. "You have all three hearts, and I get to keep my magic."

"Oh, very well," Rumpelstiltskin muttered, too caught up with the hearts now in his possession. "I suppose you'll be wanting to run away now, is that right?"

Alice nodded, nearly drunk off of the power running through her by her dark acts. She had to leave- couldn't stay. Marigold would ask too many questions. _"Why were you in the clearing?" "What happened to Father and Uncle Abernathy?" "Why did you leave Rapunzel?"_ All were questions Alice doubted she would be able to handle being asked.

"Then here you are, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin continued, and with a wave of his hand, a small hole Alice had barely noticed widened until it was just big enough for her to fit through if she squeezed. "Down the rabbit hole with you."

And down the rabbit hole Alice went.

* * *

When they finally make their way out of the pit, everyone else is dead.

Killed in an ogre attack. There wasn't anything they could do about it. The rope Mulan and Aurora used to shimmy down into the pit was cut, leaving Rosie to sit there and wait out the attack with her hands over hears like that awful night so many years ago.

 _"I'll be right back, Rapunzel; I promise. Stay here."_

It's better this time, though, because Snow is there. Snow doesn't leave her. She shuffles over to Rosie and wraps an arm around her. Before the Curse, Rosie would have shrugged her off and passed off with a grin and an, "I'm fine", only to run to Garvan and cry for the next couple of hours where no one else could see her.

But this is after the Curse and after Jefferson and being trapped- _again_ \- and Rosie can't hold back the shudders this time.

She hates the way Snow looks at her when they climb out of the pit after what feels like days of just sitting there- like she's weak, like she's a child. Rosie hates them. She hates them even more now, now that she feels like she's been reduced back to the confused child she once was when she and Garvan first escaped from the tower.

The scent of death is in the air when they emerge from the pit. Rosie chokes on it, eventually shedding her coat and pulling her scarf over her nose. Battles she's witnessed during the revolution are flashing through her mind as she surveys the carnage. She may not have seen the camp before the attack, but she's still pretty sure that it's not supposed to look like this.

"They're dead," Aurora whispers from behind Rosie, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise up. "They're all dead."

But not quite, because then, there is movement.

* * *

 _ **When the attack was over,**_ Killian stood outside the town pub and watched as the people panicked. There were the atypical screams and shouts he had grown unbelievably used to as families cried out to find each other and mothers wept over fallen children or husbands. Something in Killian's gut clenched, but he drowned it with a swig of the stolen rum in his canteen and forced himself to keep watching.

It was a punishment, of sorts, but it was interrupted by a tug on the lapel of his coat. When he glanced down, wide green eyes stared up at him- _Alice's wide green eyes_ \- and a blonde-haired little girl asked him, "Do you know where my family is?"

Killian shrugged at the kid. "No," he answered simply, and then thought to ask, "Who is your family, love?"

The little girl's freckled nose crinkled. "The Grimms," she told him.

And Killian knew what he had to do.

* * *

The sole man they find still breathing in the wreckage of the attack seems familiar, and for the life of her, Rosie can't figure out why. She studies him from her seat on a log as Aurora patches up the wound on his forehead with some of the medical supplies they managed to scavenge from the destroyed camp. Snow and Emma are checking for more survivors while Mulan scouts the perimeter to make sure the ogres are well and truly gone.

The man is putting his best effort into thoroughly charming Aurora and Rosie, but something about him just doesn't sit right with her. Rosie thinks it's his face. She's seen it before, she just can't remember where. She has been gone from the Enchanted Forest for twenty eight years, after all.

But then he laughs at something Aurora says in a clipped tone, and the man calls Aurora "darling", and it clicks in Rosie's mind.

She has the edge of her sword against the man's neck in the next second.

Aurora screams at the sudden action and Snow, Emma, and Mulan are there a moment later and Snow is yelling, "Rosie! What's gotten into you?" but Rosie won't move the sword, can't move the sword, because this man- _this fucking man_ \- is the one who ruined her life-!

"I know who you are," she tells the man, voice shaking. "I know- I _know who you are_."

The man stares at her like she's insane, but Rosie snarls at him, tears stinging at the edges of her eyes, and whispers to Snow, who has a hand on her quaking shoulder, "It's him, Snow. The one who gave me to the queen."

Snow's eyes widen, and then she's punching the pirate in the face and he's out cold.

"Would someone like to explain what the hell is going on here?" Emma asks as Rosie finally lowers the sword, still shivering, eyes fixed on the unconscious man.

"That's Captain Hook," is all Rosie feels she needs to say- needs to say so much that she does it again. "That's Captain fucking Hook."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, so, gigantic apology for not updating until April. I've had a lot going on since the last time I was on here, being a senior in high school and trying to sort things out for next year and all, and as you can imagine, chapters for this story take quite a while to write. Either way, I really hope you enjoyed. Thank you so much to all of the wonderful reviewers, favoriters, and followers! I'll try to answer all of your comments when I find the time, and I love you all very much. Happy belated Easter!(On a side note, I did not come up with the spell used in this chapter. It is a Wiccan wish-granting spell that I found in the online Grimoire. I do not own it.)  
**


End file.
